The Way to a Man's Heart
by Awen Sofer
Summary: Jean Havoc has always had bad luck with women until now. Stuck in a small village, he finds the girl who will finally love him without leaving him. Some AU elements/OC Rated M for future content. Warm and fuzzy will turn to hot and heavy later on.
1. Something Hot and Sweet

Something Hot and Sweet

Dara stared out of the window of the toasty warm coffee shop at the soldiers across the street. Day after day they were forced to stand outside in front of the military embassy to guard it. Guard it from what? They were in a small village full of women, children, and old men. Most of the young men had been taken away and killed during the war. Maybe they were protecting the man inside that office because he was responsible for enticing those men to join the military. They were protecting Roy Mustang from the wrath of the women which was far more frightening than anything he ever faced on the battlefield. Another reason he incurred so much hatred is the man seemed to view it as his personal duty to satisfy the sexual desires of the lonely women of the entire village. In the last two months of the year he has been here there's suddenly been an explosion of births of children with black hair and slanted dark colored eyes.

Dara sighed heavily as she looked at the poor men stuck outside in ankle deep snow. One had shaggy blond hair that she had only seen when he would take off his fur lined cap to knock off the snow. His eyes were kind and deep blue in color. He would readily give her a smile every morning when she came to work and every evening when she left. It was cruel how long they were forced to stand there. They were rewarded with the occasional break to rest or eat. The other man was shorter and more rotund with red hair and brown eyes. Although she would never admit it, she enjoyed watching him freak out when dogs from the village would approach him. Apparently, he had a phobia of dogs because it was much more than a slight bit of apprehension.

Dara ran behind the counter to pour two cups of steaming hot coffee and grabbed two big chocolate chip cookies. She wrapped the cookies in waxed paper and a napkin and put the lids on the cups. They deserved a treat and there was no one in the bakery at this moment so it was a good time to take them something. She trotted across the road with a cookie and a cup in each hand.

"Hi!" she cheerily called to the two men who smiled brilliantly at her. "I brought you something."

"Thank you. Oooh, hot coffee," the blond murmured with obvious delight. He pulled off the lid of the cup and inhaled the wonderful scent while letting the steam warm his nose. He smiled at her over the cup before taking a sip.

"Thanks! A cookie!" the red head exclaimed happily, eating it in two bites.

"Would you like another one? I can run get it," Dara offered, pointing back toward her shop.

"Is that your bakery?" the cute blond asked, handing the man his cookie.

"Yes it is. I've watched you guys out here every day, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I hope I don't get you into trouble," she said since they were soldiers and they were on duty.

"The Colonel doesn't mind. Sometimes I think he forgets we're out here," the other man said, crumbs flying from his mouth while he talked.

"Quit being a pig, Breda," his comrade chided him, his blue eyes opening wide. "Oh, I'm Jean Havoc. This little piggy is Heymans Breda."

"I'm Dara Achava. Nice to meet you guys," she said, shaking their hands that were covered with leather gloves.

"It's very nice to meet you, little lady," Heymans returned, nodding his head with a big smile on his face.

"I'm very pleased to make you acquaintance," Jean rejoined, holding her gaze briefly.

"What do we have here?" a deep monotone voice inquired from the doorway.

Dara looked at the handsome dark haired man with black almond shaped eyes: Colonel Roy Mustang himself. She forced a smile that turned into an expression that looked as if she wanted to bite him which she in fact did. When he approached her, she took several steps back. She stopped when he confidently grabbed her arm to halt her retreat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jean lurch forward then stop himself before he committed an act of insubordination that would get him court marshaled.

"Did you bring me anything hot and sweet?" the Colonel asked, reaching out to run his fingers through her curly mocha colored hair. Her eyes were the same shade of brown as her hair and were now locked in a silent battle of wills with the lascivious Colonel who was shamelessly pawing her.

"Oh, Colonel," she giggled flirtatiously, lowering her eyes then raising them in a coquettish manner. She jerked out of his grip, frowning hatefully at him. "I hear you get something hot and sweet from a different woman every night. Ask one of them."

Dara flipped her nose in the air and flounced back across the street.

The two men speedily snapped to attention, saluting Mustang when he turned to reenter the building. They broke down in loud guffaws when they heard the door slam behind him.

"I like her," Breda laughed.

"I really like her," Jean said, gazing across the street. He waved when he saw her pretty face in the bakery window. His heart skipped a beat when she waved back.

"Ask her out then," his friend encouraged him.

"I think I will," he said, whistling cheerily. He could barely wait until five o' clock when she would leave to go home.

* * *

Dara was tired. She had a big rush of school kids when the school day had ended. The good thing was they had cleared out her baked goods so she did not have much clean-up to do. Bad thing was she had to arrive extra early the next day to make double batches of everything. She sighed heavily with weariness while she was locking the door.

"Dara! Dara!" Jean yelled for her.

Dara turned to see him motioning her to come across the street. Oh, he was so cute and sweet but she was really not in the mood to talk. Her bunny slippers and flannel nightgown beckoned her and a cup of hot chamomile tea would be delightful. Taking a deep breath, she walked over.

"Hi!" he greeted her merrily.

"Hi, Jean! Heymans," she said, acknowledging the other man.

"You look tired so I won't keep you long. I just needed to ask a quick question. Would you like to go out with me Friday night?" he inquired, smiling at her expectantly.

Dara smiled warily, lowering her eyes to the ground. Yes, she would love to go with him. Their choices for 'going out' were extremely limited in the small village with only one restaurant and a bar being their only options. She really did not care for either. It would not be proper for a young, single woman with no family to invite a man into her house so what could she do? Then she thought of something.

"Come to the bakery when you get off work Friday evening. I'll cook for you," she suggested, exceedingly proud of herself. It had probably been years since he had a good home cooked meal.

"That would be great. I look forward to it. I'll see you in the morning," he said, tipping his hat to her.

"Bye!" she exclaimed, swiftly walking away. She was smiling so hard it hurt her face. Her steps felt light as if she were barely touching the ground on her walk home. She laughed at herself for being so silly. It was difficult to get to sleep that night. Her dreams were dominated with thoughts of the handsome blond soldier who would be coming to dinner Friday night.

* * *

When the breakfast pastries came out of the oven, Dara wrapped up two and fixed two cups of coffee to once again make a delivery across the street. They both smiled and called to her when they saw her coming.

"I can't stay long because I've got cookies in the oven. I just wanted to bring these while they were hot," she told them while she handed them the food and beverages.

"Thank you," they said in harmony.

"I'll be back at lunch," she called back to them when she was halfway back across the street. Her mama always told her that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She was going to test that theory.

At lunch Dara prepared three bowls of her homemade chicken noodle soup and grabbed a whole baguette to take to them. This time she carried food for Mustang. Might as well kiss up to the boss to make life easier for the man who could possibly become her boyfriend. After packing three sugar cookies, she headed over. She feared she would wear a rut in the dirt street at this rate.

"I come bearing gifts for the boss this time," she announced upon her arrival.

"Wonderful. He'll like that," Jean said, taking her by the arm to lead her into the building.

Dara chattered ecstatically as she laid the food out on the long wooden table for them. When Mustang walked in, she saluted him which brought a grin to his face.

"Sir, this time I did bring you something hot and sweet," she said, pointing to the food on the table.

"You are a nice girl," he complimented, patting her on the behind.

Dara emitted a sound of disgust, slapping him across the back of the head.

"Ow!" he yelled, rubbing his sore skull. "Oh, a spirited one. Havoc, this one might be a keeper."

"I think so too, sir," Jean mumbled, blushing deeply.

"Good day, gentlemen. Enjoy your lunch," she said, bowing slightly before running out of the door. She giggled the whole way across the street.

* * *

A nice surprise awaited her when she was ready to go home that evening. Dara made her way across the street to bid them good evening.

"Can I walk you home?" Jean asked her, smiling at the obvious surprise on her face.

"S-sure," she stuttered with astonishment and trepidation.

"You really impressed the Colonel. I can't believe he allowed me to leave early to walk you home," he informed her excitedly while they walked.

"It was his idea?" she inquired, truly astounded.

"Yeah! I couldn't believe it either," he replied, moving closer to her. As they walked their arms bumped infrequently.

They talked as they walked to get to know each other. Jean told her about his mother and father who lived in the East and owned a little general store that had been in the family for years on end. He told her about how his career started in the military. When he talked about his Colonel, he spoke with the utmost respect and admiration. Dara shared that her father was killed in the war two years ago and her mother had died from sickness a year ago. It was her belief that her mother died of a broken heart because she had loved her husband so much. She was left alone to run the bakery. She did not see it as a burden and was thankful because it gave her a source of income. Since she had been working there literally all her life she already knew how to make everything and she had no problem running it on her own. Stopping outside of a very small but neat house surrounded by a picket fence, she indicated this was her home.

"I would invite you in, but you know…" She dropped her eyes and her words because she was embarrassed.

"I understand. Tomorrow night then? At the bakery right?" he inquired, taking her hand between his.

"I'm looking forward to it," she confirmed, smiling when he squeezed her hand then let her go. "Good night, Mr. Havoc."

"Good night, Miss Achava."


	2. The Firsts

The Firsts

_The First Date_

Dara lit the candles on the table moments before there was a tapping sound on the glass. Her eyes flew to the door to see Jean Havoc standing there looking very cold. The kitchen had warmed the whole bakery while she was cooking so she hurried to the door to let him in so he could thaw out.

"Hi!" he greeted her just as cheerily as ever while he beat the snow off his boots.

"Hi there yourself. Come on in before you freeze out there," she encouraged him, pulling him in by the arm. She helped him take off his jacket and scarf, hanging them on the hooks on the wall.

"It smells great. Italian?" he inquired, smiling when she nodded an affirmation. "My favorite."

"You open the wine and I'll bring out the food," she said, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned just as he was pouring the wine.

They sat down to eat and the conversation poured easily and freely. They talked so much barely any of the wine and food got touched. Neither one seemed to notice, however, because they were too enthralled with getting to know each other. When the bakery began to grow cold, they noticed the time. It was eleven o' clock.

"Oh, dear. It's so late. I suppose I better be getting home," Dara stated with sadness tainting her voice.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked, standing up when she did.

"I would like that. Oh, I have to clean all this up."

"I can help."

Dara could feel him looking at her as they stood side by side washing, rinsing, and drying the dishes. She kept her eyes focused on the suds in the sink with just a hint of a smile on her lips. She really liked the man standing next to her. He was thoughtful, kind, and handsome. Her dreams of ever having a boyfriend much less having a husband and family had died along with most of the eligible young men of the town. She had lost all hope of ever leaving here or having a future. Her eyes moved to the man beside her, connecting with his dark blue ones unexpectedly. She could feel the warmth on her cheeks when she stared back into the sink.

"You're very pretty when you do that," he complimented, nudging her with his elbow when she shyly refused to look at him.

"Thank you. We're done," she announced, pulling the stopper out of the sink.

"What?" he asked with evident alarm. "Oh, the dishes, right."

Dara smiled when she saw the pink tint on his cheeks. How sweet. He got upset when he thought she meant they were done with each other. It had just begun.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked nervously when she was locking the front door behind them.

"That would be great," she answered patiently. It was sweet how he asked her again, although she had already said yes once. It made her feel good that he wanted to be with her every moment possible. Her heart galloped within her chest when he put his arm around her to help keep her a little warmer. Despite the frigid air, they walked slowly.

Spring would be coming in two months and they were looking forward to it. The snow would be gone and the walks at night would not be so cold. He walked her home every night when she left work. Mustang was a pushover for home cooking. She still carried food and desserts to them on a daily basis to keep the Colonel sedate and happy so he would allow Jean to leave early.

"When can I see you again?" he asked her at the gate to her home.

"I'm closed on Sunday. How about then? I'll meet you here at my gate at noon," she said, staring into his big blue eyes. She held her breath when he leaned toward her. His arms enveloped her body for a tight bear hug. Her gloveless hands were still crammed deep into her pockets while he squeezed her. She was amazed by his chasteness and willingness to forego a good night kiss to maintain her innocence.

"Good night. I'll see you right here at noon."

"Good night."

* * *

_The First Kiss_

Dara was standing at the gate waiting for him with a picnic basket and flowers in her hand. She nervously bit her lower lip as he approached her. She was ready for her weekly visit to the cemetery to visit her parent's graves.

"There's somewhere special I want to take you today," she proclaimed, allowing him to take the picnic basket from her.

"Okay," Jean replied gamely. He was intrigued more than nervous. He did not mind finding out more about her and coming further into her world.

Dara slid her arm through his and began to talk about her parents. She talked mainly about their life before her: the stories they had told her about how they met, their wedding, their business, and her arrival. It was all very sentimental and endearing.

"Is this it?" he questioned apprehensively when they stood at the white picket fence that surrounded a large cemetery. He moved when she pulled him forward a bit.

"I hope this does not weird you out but it's just a little ritual I have. I come here every week to visit them. That way I don't feel so lonely," she explained as they walked through the neat rows of gray cement headstones. "Does that make sense without making me sound strange?"

"Actually it does," he replied, looking at the flowers in her hand. It made perfect sense.

Jean understood why she was lonely. This was a peculiar little village where everyone pretty much kept to themselves. As far as he could tell, she had no friends. Everyone was too busy working to keep themselves and their families alive. There were no prospects for marriage because they had all been coerced into joining the military and lost their lives. Guilt flooded him with that thought because he felt responsible in an odd way. It was his duty to protect the man who convinced them to join the military in the first place.

"Dara, I'm sorry." Jean was not sure why but he felt compelled to apologize so he did.

"For what, Jean?" Her face showed the bafflement she felt from his unexpected apology.

"Um, uh, for your parents," he responded awkwardly trying to recover. He did not want to admit why he really apologized. It would be like saying, "I'm sorry, but it's my fault your father is dead."

"Here they are," she said, stopping in front of a double headstone that had their names and two connected hearts on it. _Together in life, never to be parted in death _read the epitaph that spanned both headstones under their names and dates of birth and death. Both of her parents had been under forty when they died. "They got married when my mother sixteen and my father was seventeen."

"Oh, you didn't have to –"

"I know. But I wanted to explain." Dara knelt down and put the flowers on the grave. She said a short prayer and stood back up. "Let's go to the park for our picnic."

"All right," he responded, offering her his arm.

They sat at a table in the park, watching the children run and play as they ate silently in the weak heat of the winter sun. A little of the snow had melted revealing patches of dead brown grass.

"Spring is coming," Dara announced to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them.

"I can't wait. Then I can pick flowers for you, and we won't freeze on the walks home at night," Jean said, naming just two of the things he looked forward to with warmer temperatures.

Once again the conversation streamed easily between them. As the sun began to set they decided it was time to go. It was dark by the time they reached her gate. Jean set the basket down on the ground and clutched her by the shoulders. He pressed his lips to hers before he lost his nerve again.

Dara nearly fainted when his lips contacted hers. She sighed when his arms slid around her to hold her tenderly while he gave her their first kiss. It was apparent that this was not his first kiss, but it was hers. Her hands moved around his waist when he pulled her against him for a firmer embrace. Remarkable sensations that she was had not expected seized her body. Her stomach clenched tightly yet it was quivering as if fluttering from a thousand butterflies that had taken flight inside. Every nerve in her body tingled and she would swear she heard bells ringing. When he lifted his lips from hers, she stared into his lovely blue eyes.

"Oh, Jean," she whispered, laying her head on his chest. She could hear that his heart was beating as fast as hers.

"Was that your first kiss?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair. He felt her nod against his chest. "Would you like a second one?"

"Yes, please," she answered in a way that made him chuckle. She turned her lips up to him closing her eyes in anticipation of her second kiss.

Jean liked kissing her. She was so sweet and innocent, untouched by any man and perfect. He kept the kiss clean and virtuous by keeping his tongue in his own mouth. He did not want to scare her since this was only her second kiss. It was unthinkable to him that a girl her age had never been kissed. Most women her age had already indulged in sex with at least one man, maybe more. He should know; he was one of those men. It was as if he and Mustang were in a contest to see how many notches they could put on their bedposts. But she was different. Dara was pure and virginal and he wanted to keep her that way.

* * *

_The First Fight_

"What happened? You were fine this morning!" Dara shrieked when she saw the awful purple bruise around Jean Havoc's left eye.

"Oh, it was just an accident," he told her in an attempt to brush it off. He was hoping he would not have to explain.

Colonel Mustang had made one sexually suggestive comment too many about Dara that day. After they had finished the lunch she had brought them, Mustang leaned back with a look of satisfaction on his face and remarked, "The girl has some excellent cooking skills. I wonder what she would be like in bed. I might just have to give her a try and find out."

Court marshal and jail be damned. Jean had heard enough of the sexual verbal assaults against his sweet girlfriend. He punched that man right in the jaw sending him over backwards with the chair and sprawling on the floor. The Colonel returned the favor by jumping to his feet and socking Jean in the eye. A hit for a hit and it was over with. Now both men sported lovely black and purple bruises and were friends again. Things were different in a man's world. They solved problems with physical violence and got on with their lives. They refused to indulge in emotional blackmail and storing away hurts for future use to instill guilt like their female counterparts. Men kicked each other's asses then remained friends.

"It was an accident," Dara repeated incredulously, examining his eye. "Did you accidentally hit someone's fist with your eye?"

Jean laughed so hard when she asked him that. He pushed her hands away from his face so he could kiss her. If he kissed her she would forget all about the black eye. It was a mean trick but he did really want to kiss her, and he did not want to talk about the black eye.

"I want to make this official," he said, taking her hands between his. "Dara Achava will you be my girlfriend?"

"Why yes, Jean Havoc. I'd be delighted to be your girlfriend," she answered, throwing her arms around his neck. She kissed him this time. Her heart beat thundered in her ears like a stampede of wild horses while her stomach did somersaults. She liked kissing him. A lot.

* * *

_The First Sad Good-bye_

"I have to go back," Jean mumbled, staring at the ground beneath his feet as the stood in front of her gate.

"What? Why?" she asked in confusion, grabbing the collar of his shirt. It was Sunday and they had just gotten back from their usual visit to her parents' graves and picnic in the park. They were well into spring at this point. Their relationship had been going on for six months.

"The military is closing down this post. The war is over and there's no need for us to be here anymore. We've been called back to Central," he explained, pulling her into him so he could hold her as the tears formed in her eyes.

Dara could hear the ragged breaths he was taking. She knew he was upset as well. It was not like he was leaving because he wanted to.

"How much longer?" she asked, her tears falling and soaking into his soft cotton shirt.

"A week," he answered, feeling her body stiffen in his arms.

"Oh, no," she sobbed, leaning into him when her knees weakened.

"I love you," Jean blurted. He had to tell her. He wanted her to know.

"I love you too," she sniffed, clinging to him with fistfuls of his shirt in her hands.

"This is not the end. I'll come back for you," he vowed, turning her chin up to look to into her deep brown eyes.

"Jean, don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered, reveling in the intensity of his blue eyes.

"I don't."


	3. Helping Havoc

Helping Havoc

Six months. It had been six months since they said good-bye. Jean held her last letter in his hand as he stared out of the office window at Central Command. He smiled when he thought of how she faithfully wrote every week. Unfortunately he had not been so careful with his responses. He loved her; he missed her terribly. The letters only seemed exacerbate his loneliness and intensify his longing for her. He sighed deeply and loudly making a low mournful sound without intending to or even noticing he had done so.

Roy's pen cut straight through the paper he was signing. That sigh had bounced off his last nerve. He raised his dark eyes to glare at the lovesick Lieutenant. Never before had Havoc cared so deeply for a woman. What was even more remarkable was that it was a woman he had not even slipped any tongue much less anything else. For once in his life, it must be the real thing. Havoc loved her with a real love.

Colonel Mustang sat back in his desk chair to think. He picked up a piece of paper from the mile high stack on his desk and pretended to read. He was thinking. Another one of Havoc's pitiful, forlorn exhalations filled the air and he ripped the paper in his hands in half. His eyes met a very irritated pair of brown eyes under blond bangs. Riza was not reaching for her gun so he was safe despite destroying the important document.

"Holy hell, Havoc!" he yelled, feeling like every nerve was shredded from the constant pathetic sighs of distress. The depressed lovelorn man had to be helped somehow. Then it came to the Colonel. "Havoc, let's go!" he exclaimed, snatching his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Excuse me, sir?" Havoc inquired as if Mustang were speaking a foreign language.

"Let's go!" he repeated louder than he needed to. His brokenhearted Lieutenant was lovesick not deaf.

"Yes, sir," he acquiesced following the Colonel out of the door.

Their first stop was jewelry store. The Colonel was in and out in a matter of minutes. He threw a small box at Havoc who caught from a pure reflexive reaction.

"What's this?" Havoc asked, staring at the blue velvet box.

"It's an engagement ring. You're going on a trip to go get the woman you love," Mustang informed him, driving in the direction of the train station.

"What?" he asked, his eyes dull and uncomprehending still.

"You're returning to that quaint village where you fell in love with that pretty little girl who owns a bakery. You're going to ask her to marry you and bring her home with you," he instructed him as if he were explaining a training maneuver.

"Is that an order, sir?" A smile played at the edges of Jean's lips. A big grin spread across his face when he opened the ring box to look at the diamond solitaire. It was gorgeous in its simplicity like the woman he had been ordered to give it to.

"Yes, Second Lieutenant that is indeed an order. You've never failed on a mission before. For god's sake don't start now or I might have to kill you," Mustang grumbled. He could not bear the thought of dealing with the man if he did not succeed in bringing home a bride.

"No, sir. Failure is not an option."

* * *

Dara turned to lock the door of the bakery. Tears slid down her cheeks, freezing there from the arctic air. It was the middle of the winter. She looked across the street at the dark, empty building remembering when a handsome blond had to stand in front all day in the snow drifts. A sob broke from her lips, causing her to cover her mouth with her mitten clad hands. Since she did not have him to hold her hands and keep them warm any more she wore hand knitted mittens one of her customers had made for her. Everyone had been very friendly and nice to her since her boyfriend had returned to Central City. It helped some with the loneliness, but she still cried every night.

Dara thought she saw a tall shadow lurking by her gate. But it's just a shadow. Shadows do not lurk…or move. She froze in her tracks staring at the black figure standing by her gate. Fear squeezed her heart until she could barely breathe. Her feet were uncooperative and would not move as the silhouette advanced toward her. Unbridled terror trickled down her spine in an icy flow but she still would not move. Her mouth open but no sound came forth. What a time for her body to completely rebel against her.

"Dara? Dara, honey is that you?" a very familiar male voice called from the dark, white wisps of condensation rising from the figure when he spoke.

"J-Jean?" she stuttered, squinting as if that would help her see into the dark. She was swept up into a pair of strong arms and a recognizable set of lips placed a very welcome and longed for kiss on her lips. "Oh, it is you! What are you doing here?"

Jean pulled his lighter out of pocket to illuminate the box in his hand. "I have something I need to ask you."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, staring at the box but not comprehending what was about to happen. She watched in confusion as he knelt down on one knee in the snow in front of her.

"Dara Achava, I have come to ask you to be my wife. Would you like to make me the happiest man on earth by saying yes? I love you and want you for the rest of my life," he told her, releasing the lighter because it burned his finger.

Dara grabbed it from his hand and struck it again to light up the face of her beloved. She took a deep breath so she could give him the answer to the question she had been dreaming of hearing. "Yes, Jean. I would be more than happy to become Mrs. Havoc."

Jean stood up crushing her to his chest. He suddenly remembered the ring and took her hand in his. He pulled off the pink mitten to slide the ring on her finger. It was official. He kissed her so passionately it made both of them feel dizzy and weak.

"Would you like to come inside?" Dara inquired.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Well, things are different now."

Jean followed her through the gate of the fence that surrounded her little home. He waited patiently while she unlocked the door. The house was dark and freezing cold. She lit a candle for a little bit of light to see.

"I'll build a fire for us," he volunteered, instantly going to the fireplace. He watched her as she disappeared through the door to his left.

Dara went to retrieve blankets to keep them warm until the fire was ready. She draped a blanket across Jean's shoulders as he worked on getting the fire lit. After wrapping up in the other blanket, she sat on the handmade rug next to him. Freeing her hand from the material, she studied the ring in the dim candlelight. It still seemed like a dream that he had returned. It was even more unreal that he had asked her to marry him.

"Hah! There were go!" he exclaimed triumphantly when a small flame erupted at the base of the wood. He sat back on his behind, putting his arm around his wife-to-be.

In a comfortable and somewhat stunned silence, they stared into the growing flames of the fire while they snuggled under the warm blankets. Neither one wanted to talk for fear of disturbing the enchanting spell that had been cast upon them. Reality would sink in soon enough so they wanted to enjoy the fabulously warm surrealism of their reunion and abrupt engagement.

* * *

Dara awoke the next morning feeling warm and happy. She was lying on the floor wrapped in a blanket like a butterfly in a cocoon. Why was she on the floor in front of the fireplace? And what is this? She picked up the hand that was draped over her waist. Staring at it in confusion it dawned on her that a man was with her. WHO IS THIS? She turned to see Jean Havoc rolled up in a blanket and still asleep behind her. It had not been a dream. He was really here and… She checked her finger.

"I really am engaged," she gasped, staring at the ring. "Hey, Jean!"

"Five more minutes, Colonel, please," he whined.

"Get up now, soldier!" she yelled, deepening her voice.

"I'm awake!" he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright with such force he nearly head butted her.

Dara began giggling while he rubbed his eyes to remove the remaining sleep from them.

"Good morning, my lovely," he greeted her, giving her a kiss.

Dara's heart skipped then slammed into her rib cage with hard beats. Oh, how his kisses thrilled her.

"Good morning, my husband to be," she returned, putting her arms around his neck.

"I like the sound of that," he murmured, kissing her neck and enclosing her with his arms. He felt the goose bumps rise across her skin, and she shivered in his arms. "You're so sweet and innocent."

"Does it bother you? I know I'm not like any of the other girls you've ever dated, but – "

"But that's why I like you. Don't worry. I love you, Dara."

"I love you too, Jean Havoc. Oh, I'll be Mrs. Jean Havoc," she stated ecstatically, her eyes glittering with happiness in the bright early morning sun that flooded the kitchen.

"Come back with me. Let's leave today. We can be married by the day after tomorrow soon after we arrive in Central," Jean said, staring into her eyes that suddenly looked sad. "What? What is it?"

"Jean, I can't just pack up and walk away. I need to find someone to take care of the bakery and I'm sure I could find a family that would need my home. I can't just abandon everything my parents worked for," she explained.

"But you're never coming back here. You'll be my wife and we'll live in Central." That's when he realized they had nowhere to live when they returned to Central. She could not very well live in barracks with him. "You're right. There are things we both need to take care of. Will a week be long enough to manage it all?"

"I believe so. Why?" she asked, seeing that he was deep in thought. Apparently this little engagement expedition was a spur of the moment thing. She smiled with the thought of how much more romantic that made it.

"I'll buy you a train ticket to Central for a week from now for you. That will give me time to find us a place to live as well. I need to go back today. I'm sorry," he apologized, pressing his hand to her cheek while he smiled at her. "I wasn't thinking. I guess I thought I'd just come in and sweep you off your feet and we would live happily ever after."

"Oh, we will Jean. Happily ever after just take a little work sometimes." She pulled his hand from her cheek and pressed a kiss in the middle of his palm.

Jean loved her so much. He could barely wait until things were ready to bring her home as his wife.

* * *

Jean paced the platform at the train station. He impatiently stared at his watch. He had just experienced the longest week of his life and these last few minutes before she arrived were excruciating.

"Are you sure she's coming?" Heymans asked, not attempting to hide his boredom. The train was late and they had already been waiting for an hour.

Jean had a surprise waiting for her. He had assembled his friends and a preacher to be ready to marry her as soon as she got off the train. There was no way he was letting this woman slip through his fingers. He had found a nice little furnished apartment for them since all they would be bringing was their clothes. He certainly was not going to give Mustang the chance to steal her from under his nose like the lecherous Colonel had girlfriends before. Worse yet, what if Mustang deflowered her and rejected her? As much as he respected and admired his Colonel, he also knew the man could be a real bastard sometimes. The train whistle blew in the distance and he jumped with anticipation. His wife was coming.

Dara was so excited she felt nauseated. She had sold the bakery to a man that had been a friend of her father's. He had promised her he would take good care of it and run like they always had with honesty and integrity to honor her parents' memory. She felt proud that this man had taken it because he had fought alongside her father in the war. Giving the family her house also helped tremendously because the man's daughter wanted to get married but they could not afford to build her a house. The family received a double blessing and so did she because she knew both places would be cherished and taken care of.

Dara felt her heart speed up as the train began to slow down. She was almost there. Her eyes locked on the blond man of her dreams standing on the platform beside the tracks. Who were all those people with him? All of the men were dressed in their military uniforms. One man wore the distinctive garb of a preacher. Oh, dear. Was this a wedding waiting to happen for her and Jean? Instant wedding - just add bride. Her husband-to-be was incredibly romantic. She loved him.


	4. Becoming Mrs Jean Havoc

Becoming Mrs. Jean Havoc

Jean nearly knocked her down when he ran toward her and threw his arms around her.

"There are some people I want you to meet. They are my friends and coworkers," he said, pulling her toward the large group of people who appeared to be as nervous as she was.

Dara listened to each name hoping she could remember them. Some would be easier than others. Riza Hawkeye and Maria Ross would be easy because they were the only women. She already knew Heymans Breda and Mustang. There was Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Denny Brosh, and a very excitable man named Maes Hughes who had brought his wife Gracia and daughter Elicia. Then she was introduced to the most massive, muscular man she had ever seen, Alex Louis Armstrong. After a bone crushing hug and a teary accolade with a short spiel about how wonderful young love is and how thrilled he was Havoc had found the woman for him, the man let her go and allowed her to breathe again. For a few moments, she had feared dying on her wedding day before vows were exchanged from the man's murderous hug. Two more memorable individuals were the bizarre yet friendly and kind teenagers: the blond older brother was short enough that he was eye to eye with her and the other brother was hidden in a seven foot tall suit of armor. How eccentric. Both were incredibly polite and sweet yet despite their smiles there was this overwhelming sadness about them that she could not understand.

"Dara, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" Jean asked when the preacher stepped up to them and opened his Bible.

"Yes, but only if you will do me the honor of being my husband," she replied.

A collective 'aw' was sent up from the group which embarrassed and flustered the couple to be wed and made their audience chuckle. The ceremony was short and Mustang handed them to two gold bands so that the event could be made official and brought to a close. After they were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Jean Havoc, hugs and congratulations were exchanged. Armstrong was last and gave them both what she would learn was one his patented killer bear hugs, along with his well wishes for them punctuated with more tears. For him to be such a muscle bound hulk he had a surprisingly tender heart.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked, leading her to Mustang's car.

The Colonel had insisted they use his car for the day. He had even paid the train porters to load her luggage while the wedding ceremony was being conducted.

Jean wondered why the man seemed so interested in his happiness all of a sudden but he did not ask any questions. Instead he took it as retribution for all the women that had been stolen from him and all of the chances at marriage that Mustang had ruined in the past. Maybe he should be thanking the oversexed Colonel for that. Otherwise he would not have been able to find the perfect girl and marry her.

Dara felt as if she were living a magnificent dream. She never would have guessed she would find such a precious gift from the same military that had taken away her father and indirectly her mother. Holding his hand tightly as he drove, she stared at her handsome husband. It was still hard to believe. She did not have the wedding she had always dreamed of in a church with a long white dress. But it was even better and even more romantic than she had imagined.

They stopped in front of a plain white stucco apartment building that looked like a big box with windows. This was where they were going to live? It did not matter just as long as she was with him.

"It's better than it looks I promise. It's only a one bedroom apartment but it spacious. There's a balcony on the back that overlooks the local park. I think you will like it," he said, squeezing her hand that was firmly held in his.

There was even an elevator so they did not have to walk up the eight flights of stairs to their top floor apartment. At least they would not have to deal with neighbors tromping overhead. Jean unlocked the door and swept her up into in his arms to carry her over the threshold into their new apartment and new life.

Dara looked around the neat and tidy apartment. The floors were all gleaming hardwood and everything was white and clean. There was a small kitchen and living room. Then there was the bedroom. She stared at the big bed that was nothing more than a mattress on a boxy wooden base. There was a puffy white comforter on the bed – their bed. She bit her lip nervously. She cursed her own naïveté right now. Never having been with a man she was mortified and frightened.

Jean returned with her suitcases to find her staring at the bed with wide eyed terror. He had not considered how scared she would be since this would be her first time with a man. Going to her, he grabbed the lapels of her coat.

"I just want to take off your coat. It's all right," he assured her, when she jumped and her fear stricken eyes riveted themselves to his face. He removed her coat and tossed it over the chair in the corner.

Dara felt the heat spread across her cheeks from embarrassment. She knew she was acting silly because he was her husband after all. Her brown eyes met his, and she relaxed when he smiled at her. She sighed when his arms slid around her and his lips met hers.

"I love you," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. He gave her a quick kiss before gazing into her eyes again. "Can I…can I show you how much?"

Dara nodded dumbly unable to speak. She wanted him to show her, to teach her; she wanted to know how to please him.

"Let me know if you get frightened. I will take this at your speed, okay?" He smiled and kissed her after receiving another silent nod.

Dara could feel her whole body shaking. She relished each kiss he gave her. Her breath caught in her throat when his lips moved from hers down to her neck. She held onto his waist while he made her feel hot and dizzy by pressing kisses to her neck.

"Jean," she gulped to get rid of the lump in her throat when she felt his fingers on the pearl buttons of her shirt.

"It's okay. Just relax," he whispered in her ear. When the last button was unfastened, he pushed the shirt over her shoulders and allowed it slide down her arms and to the floor. He paused to take off his uniform jacket, throwing it onto the chair with hers.

Dara smiled at him apprehensively, allowing him to move her hands over his broad chest covered with a soft white t-shirt. She moved her eyes to her hands, taking over moving them. She liked the way the hard muscles felt beneath her hands. In a burst of bravery, she slid her hands down to his waist and pulled his t-shirt from his pants. His sudden inhalation of excited surprise spurred her on to pull up the shirt where he took over and jerked it off to reveal his torso to her.

"Oh, my," she breathed out in fascination. Her fingers slid over his bare smooth chest, exploring every muscular contour. Her hands and eyes continued the childlike, inexperienced exploration of his body, feeling across each firm defined abdominal muscle. She had seen the village men with their shirts off in the fields during the summer heat throughout her life, but she did not recall any of them looking like this. Her fingers moved down to the button his uniform pants and she was startled when he gasped loudly and grabbed her hands.

"Wait," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. He pressed his lips to hers, preparing to give her a new kind of kiss.

Dara gasped and almost pulled back from him when she felt his tongue touch her bottom lip. She moaned as he licked her full bottom, enticing her to open her mouth. A low guttural sound of arousal resembling a purr rolled in her throat when his tongue slid into her mouth and touched hers.

Jean had to force himself not to grab her and rip the rest of her clothes off. He had never heard a woman make that sound before and it stimulated him so strongly it shocked him. His hands slid down her back as he gently probed her mouth. He unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Almost there; only a slip, bra, and panties stood in his way. He broke the kiss to pull the slip over her head. His eyes roamed over her body and what he saw startled him, causing him to gape at her.

Dara had gotten advice from one of the woman who owned the dress shop as to what kind of underwear to wear on her wedding night. The woman had showed her a lacey white bra and matching pair of panties that looked like nothing more than a wide strip of lace. She bit her lip as her new husband continued to stare at her for an awfully long time.

"You don't like it?" she asked, shifting from one high heeled foot to the other becoming nervous under his intense scrutiny.

"Oh, I like it," he murmured, his eyes moving to her face. "I like it a lot."

Dara smiled in relief, kicking off her shoes. Now she was nearly a foot shorter than him.

Jean looked at his short, curvy wife. He never would have guessed she had been hiding that body under the loose frumpy clothing she always wore. He had never even seen her legs because all of her skirts flowed to her ankles or mid-calf. Luck had been on his side all the way around when she came into his life. Pulling her small body against his, he decided it was his turn to give her a hands on investigation.

Dara sighed as his big hands that were warm and soft brushed over her skin making her whole body tingle and tremble. She cried out his name when his hand covered her breast and squeezed softly. Her hands went to his chest to feel over his muscular frame. Her fingers skimmed across the brown nipple on his chest watching with interest as it grew hard with arousal and he moaned. She risked a glance at his face, seeing his eyes were closed. Once again growing bold, she leaned forward to flick her tongue across the stimulated flesh. The moan that came from him caused her to feel a sudden rush of heat and wetness between her legs. Her breathing became ragged and slightly labored. A strangled cry of surprise tore from her lips when he released her bra and pulled it off.

"Oh, Dara, they're beautiful," he groaned, covering her breasts with his hands. He stroked across her nipples with his thumbs, smiling as they became taut and erect under his touch. His manhood throbbed and twitched between his legs begging for attention but he would not rush this. He pushed her back to the bed, carefully laying her down.

Dara stared at him with nervous anticipation as he stood beside the bed and rested his hands on the button of his uniform pants. A pulsing ache she had never felt before had formed deep within her. Her huge round eyes watched his fingers as they unbuttoned and unzipped the pants, then pushed them and his underwear to the floor. She squealed when the big hard thing popped up and swayed back and forth.

If Jean had not been so turned on he would have laughed at her display of astonishment. He leaned forward, easing his fingers between her skin and the itty bitty panties she wore. His eyes remained on hers as she slowly pulled them down her legs.

"Are you okay? Are you frightened?" he asked, lying down next to her.

"I'm fine. I'm not scared anymore," she assured him because curiosity and arousal had made all fear flee. In another fantastic burst of bravery, she reached out to seize his member with her hand.

"Oh, Dara!" he exclaimed, surprised and thrilled with her unexpected brazenness. He pushed into her hand making her gasp.

'He wants to put that thing inside of me!' her mind screamed. She could barely get her fingers around it. Her breathing ceased momentarily when he got on all fours to hover above her.

"Listen to me, Dara," he said, holding her gaze. "This is going to hurt. You're going to bleed too. But it will get better, I promise."

Dara silently observed him pulling a towel from under the pillow. She raised her hips so he could put the towel under her. He was incredibly thoughtful and sweet. Apparently he did not want to leave a big mess for her to clean up afterward. His warning had made her very anxious but she was glad he had given it to her. Her mother had never told her anything about sex. She had no idea just what kind of a sheltered life she had lived in her tiny village until now. Sex was never discussed but obviously it happened because babies were born. Girls her age never talked about it and the ones who actually participated in the act were shunned and ignored. The married women kept to themselves and did not associate with the younger women. They were all too paranoid of one of the young single women attempting to steal their husbands which often did happen due to the short supply of men.

"Dara, are you ready?" he asked, kissing her briefly.

"Yes, Jean. I trust you," she said, placing her hands against his chest while he positioned himself between her legs. She gasped when she felt the head pressing against her entrance.

"Take deep breaths and I'll go slow," he assured her, pushing in.

Dara closed her eyes, biting her lower lip. She felt a sensation of pressure and fullness while he slowly entered her. She moaned when he pushed in further. Inch by inch he entered her. A tearing sensation made her gasp and claw into his taut biceps.

"Breathe, baby," he whispered because she was holding her breath. He hated seeing the look of pain on her face but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Dara inhaled loudly, releasing his arms from her painful grip. She moved her hands down to the bed so she would not hurt him again. It was not his fault that it hurt. Her eyes met his and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out when he pushed further in the and tearing sensation turned into a burning pain.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when he saw the tears shining in her eyes. He kissed her and pushed in the rest of the way.

Dara cried out when she felt something break within her and a gush of wetness flooded out. She assumed that would be the blood. A wife and no longer a virgin, her eyes met her husband's as he began to move in and out of her slowly. The pain decreased and finally stopped. It did not really feel good but it did not hurt either. Maybe she just went numb. She could feel her body stretching to accommodate him and the pressure was sometimes incredible, making her gasp for air.

Jean had never had sex with a virgin not even when he lost his virginity. His friends had actually chipped in and paid for a whore to 'make him a man.' He had always regretted that because he felt so dirty and sleazy afterward. Maybe that was the reason he had become addicted to sex; in his weird pathetic attempt to forget that experience. However, he would allow this experience to completely wipe away the memory of that one. Having sex with his lovely wife for the first time, experiencing the true purity of how it should be the first time.

"Jean, I love you," she whispered, touching his face.

Jean opened his eyes in amazement and looked down at her. He kissed her tenderly as he slowly made love to her. The feeling began to build inside of him that he was going to climax. He took a chance, moving faster.

Dara turned her face from his so she could breath. Her fingers twisted into the soft material of the comforter and clawed into it when he thrust into her faster. It hurt a little but she did not want him to know. He seemed to be experiencing a lot of pleasure and she did not want to ruin that. Slowly turning her head back to look at him, her eyes observed the constantly changing expressions on his face while he panted and moaned with ecstasy. It almost frightened her when he began shaking and thrusting into her quickly, calling out her name.

"Jean? Are you all right?" she asked, when he was still and lying on top of her panting.

"Oh, yes. I'm more than all right. I had an orgasm," he said, sitting up to look at her. "Don't worry. I plan to teach what one is. I'll make you have plenty."

Dara smiled but felt like a moron. She hated being so clueless. At least he was being patient and kind with her, not making fun of her in her ignorance.

"Dara, don't ever be embarrassed with me. Don't worry about not being a worldly woman. It was one of the things that drew me to you," he explained, kissing her on the lips. "We have many things we can teach each other."

"What could you possibly learn from me?" she inquired with a derisive snort at the end.

"More than you could ever imagine."

Jean kissed her with all of the things she could teach him running through his head. How to look at the world through fresh, untainted eyes. How to see beauty in everything. How to be human again after experiencing the horrors of war. How to be a man instead of just a soldier. How to be a good and faithful husband. And hopefully soon, how to be a father.


	5. His Sweet Wife

His Sweet Wife

Mustang looked out the window that faced the front lawn. There she stood like she did every day with a picnic basket waiting for her husband. For the first time in his life he sincerely envied Havoc. He also dreaded having to send Havoc on his next assignment. They had only been married two weeks, but unfortunately life did not stop so they can enjoy the good times. The bad things always come. It was a dangerous assignment, but then again, they all were. He watched as the tall blond greeted his diminutive wife with a kiss which he had to lean way down to give her. A smile touched his lips. At least Havoc found a good wife and a way back to being human. For some it did not seem to be in the cards.

"Roy?" Riza called, walking into the office. She locked the door behind her since they were alone.

Roy's smile widened. But there were other distractions that got him through the day.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Dara inquired when Jean only picked at his food and did not eat.

"I have to leave tomorrow. I'm being sent on a reconnaissance mission with Falman, Fuery, and Breda. There's a new threat to Amestris and we have to go investigate and bring back as much information as possible," Jean explained, sitting the bento box down because now he felt sick. He did not want to leave her. She was so naïve and guileless, he was afraid of what would happen when he left her alone. Staying holed up in the apartment was not an option because that would be like keeping her prisoner in their own home. Hopefully a suitable arrangement would present itself. About that time it did.

Edward and Alphonse Elric were walking toward the front doors of Central Command on their way to report to Mustang. They always needed somewhere to stay when they were in town. They could look out for her for a few days at least.

"Hey, honey, come on," he said, helping her pack up the uneaten food. "There's someone I need to talk to."

Dara took his hand and followed him into the building. She was amazed anyone could find their way around this building. Everything looked the same! The military took uniformity way past making everyone dress the same. They turned down yet another hallway and she saw the suit of armor and the short blond standing in the hallway.

"Why are you two standing out here?" Jean inquired, just as the sound of Riza calling Mustang's name reached their ears.

"Oh, dear," Dara murmured, staring at the floor. She could feel her face growing hot with embarrassment because it was obvious what they were doing in there from the moaning that followed.

"We're stuck out here while Colonel Bastard is getting his freak on with Riza," Edward grumbled, not noticing Dara standing behind her husband with her head lowered in blushing shame.

"Brother!" Alphonse admonished his older brother. He had seen her and noticed her obvious discomfort. He immediately felt the need to protect her. It seemed to be a personality defect with him that he felt the immediate desire to protect the blameless and weak. However, she did not seem very fragile.

"I needed to talk to you two anyway," Jean said, pulling Dara from behind him.

Edward's face immediately turned as red as his coat when he was made aware of her presence. "About what?" he asked, avoiding looking at her face that was still a little pink.

"If you two guys are going to be in town for a while, would you like to stay at our place?" he questioned, holding Dara against his side.

"We couldn't do that. We'd be imposing," Alphonse politely answered.

"It's small but it's comfortable. Look guys, the thing is I need someone to watch out for Dara while I'm gone. I'm being sent out tomorrow," he explained to be greeted with a harmonious "oh" from both boys.

"Oh, Roy, god, YES!" Riza's cry interrupted them and everyone was treated to a bright blush and an awkward silence which only made it worse because they could hear the amorous sounds more clearly.

"I don't mind at all I assure you. I would enjoy the company," she told them, smiling sweetly at them despite her growing discomfort. She turned to Jean, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pull him down to kiss her. "I love you, Sweetie. I need to leave before I'm the first person to ever die of embarrassment."

All three men in the hallway laughed and bid her farewell. They were still chuckling a bit as they watched her scurry away and disappear around the corner.

Dara was not paying close attention to where she was going when she bumped into the human wall known as Alex Louis Armstrong.

"Dara!" he exclaimed, his booming voice echoing off the walls. He opened his arms wide and she prepared herself to be assaulted with affection. He swept her up in his arms, picnic basket and all, swinging her around. "You're the sweetest girl I've ever seen! You've made Havoc so happy!"

"Oh, Alex, you take the statement kill them with kindness to a whole new level," she wheezed in a pathetic attempt to talk and breathe. It was nearly impossible to breathe alone.

Alex laughed loudly and deeply, sitting her down on her feet. He patted her on the head kindly as if she were a child which she did in fact look like one in comparison to him.

"And funny too. He found a good woman. Good day, my dear," he said, turning to walk away from her.

Wow! 'What an interesting man,' she thought to herself as she watched the retreat of his wide shouldered colossal frame. She turned and immediately ran into someone else. What was her problem today?

"I'm sorry," she gushed, bowing in apology to the man. Her eyes stared at the incredibly shiny boots then started a slow upwards trek to the man's face. He had deep black hair that was slicked back from his hard angular face and a darkly colored eye; singular because the other was covered with an eye patch. "Fuhrer King Bradley, I'm so so sorry."

"That's quite all right, dear one. Accidents happen. You seem a little flustered anyway. What is your name?" he inquired, lifting her chin with his forefinger to look at her.

"I'm Dara Havoc, sir," she replied, feeling the need to curtsy so she did.

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal with me," he responded his face softening remarkably. A warm smile curled his lips and that warmth extended his single dark eye. "Oh, your Mustang's Lieutenant's new wife! Come by my office for tea tomorrow, dear, I would love to get to know you."

But why?, she almost asked but bit her lip self-consciously instead. Was he serious?

"That's a real invitation. I will expect you at two," he said, then continued on his way.

'That was weird,' she thought to herself. Why in the world would the Fuhrer have any interest in her at all?

* * *

Dara was sitting on the couch reading a book when she heard Jean's key in the lock.

"Honey, I'm home!" he yelled, a loud clanking nearly drowning out his voice.

"Oh, good! You came!" she squealed excitedly when she saw the two brothers. She hugged and kissed her husband then proceeded to hug the other two. It was strange to hug a cold suit of armor but when he responded by carefully hugging her back it not seem quite so bizarre. It was fun to hug Edward who was just her size and responded enthusiastically to the affectionate embrace. They seemed so desperate for loving touches it made her heart hurt for them.

"How was the rest of your day?" Jean inquired, sitting down in the big soft chair that had become 'his' chair.

Dara sat on the coffee table in front of him to remove his boots. She ignored the quizzical glances the two boys exchanged. To most women it was an act of demeaning subservience that they would not dare engage in. To her it was an act of love to her husband to show how much she cared. She invited the other two to sit down and get comfortable.

"I had something strange happen to me today," she said, dropping his heavy boot on the floor with a dull thud. The poor downstairs' neighbors. Between the suit of armor walking about and her carelessly throwing boots it probably sounded like a herd of elephants stomping through. She carefully sat down the second boot.

"What do you mean?" Jean asked, leaning toward her to kiss her again.

"I ran into Fuhrer Bradley today, literally. I smacked right into him but he was so kind and nice to me," she said, noticing the look of alarm that passed over Jean's face before he masked it. "He wants me to have tea with him tomorrow in his office."

"He what?" all three men blurted in unison.

Dara looked at the two guests wondering why they might be concerned. What did they all know that she didn't? Anxiety began to grow in the back of her mind making her shoulders tighten with apprehension.

"Have I done something wrong?" she inquired, glancing from one face to another. Unfortunately there was no way to gauge the impassive suit of armor who stayed completely silent as well. Edward's eyebrows were pulled together so tightly it had formed a squiggly blond uni-brow over his unusual golden eyes.

"No, it's not that. You definitely haven't done anything wrong. It's just that…," Jean paused, taking her hands in his as he looked into her big clueless eyes. "Be careful who you trust here, especially at Central Command. There are things going on here that we don't understand. That's why I'm being sent out tomorrow. Be very careful, honey. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

"Jean, you're frightening me. Please, stop," she pled with him as the anxiety blossomed into pure fear.

"You can't continue to stay so naïve, Dara," he murmured, kissing her on the forehead. "You won't be safe if you do."

"I'm going to cook dinner. You can get our guests some drinks," she told him. She hated it when he made her feel like a stupid child. Although it was unintentional, it still hurt. She wondered if it made him angry that she was so incredibly simple and inexperienced in life.

Dara stayed quiet during dinner only halfway listening to the three of them talking. They used words she did not understand like alchemy, transmutation, Homunculi, and Philosopher's stones. She had never heard of those things before. The longer she was here, the more she realized she did not know. She was shocked by how much Edward ate to be so small and she was really beginning to wonder what the deal was with the other brother who ate nothing. There was something going on here that she needed to know. When Edward followed her to the kitchen with the dishes after dinner, she took the opportunity to ask.

"Edward, tell me about you and your brother," she requested running water in the sink for the dishes.

"I'll help you with those," he offered, taking off his jacket at last.

"Edward," she gasped, her eyes growing big with astonishment as she stared at the metal arm. Her shaking fingers reached out to touch the gleaming metal gliding down from his shoulder to his gloved hand while she marveled at the unusual appendage. She pulled off his glove, pressing her flesh flat against his metal palm. "This would be a good place to start."

Edward told her the story while they washed, rinsed, and dried the dishes. He started from when they tried to bring their dead mother back to life. Leaving out the gory details, he related the story of how he lost his arm and leg and explained as best as he could how his brother lost his entire body. Alphonse was the pure essence of being a human being: the soul. Nothing was left of him but a disembodied soul that Edward had attached to the suit of armor to keep that part of him from being destroyed too. They were on a journey to get their bodies back. A short alchemy lesson had been necessary during his story as well as explaining transmutation, but she seemed fascinated and willing to listen.

When they were done with the dishes, they continued to stand in the kitchen talking. For some reason he felt compelled to talk to her about his mother. Maybe it was because she reminded him so much of his mother. Her eyes, her hair, her sweet and loving demeanor; they all reminded him of his wonderful mother, Trisha Elric.

Dara studied his face as he talked, seeing the tears form in big amber eyes. He had loved his mother greatly. It was not hard to understand why he had done something so horribly wrong to bring her back. He was only a child; he was still only a child who had been forced into an adult world. The guilt and condemnation weighed so heavily on him she could feel it as he talked; especially when he mentioned his brother. When the first tear fell, she grabbed her apron to wipe it away. His eyes met hers. He looked so wounded and fearful yet mature beyond his fifteen years – even beyond her and she was seven years older than him. She pulled him into her arms, placing her hand against the back of his head as he cried. Her fingers grasped the long blond braid and ran it through her hand. Such an unusual boy.

"Hey, where did you two run and hide?" Jean asked, walking into the kitchen. He was shocked to see the blond teenager in the arms of his wife who was holding him tightly against her and stroking his back tenderly. He relaxed when he saw the boy's shoulders shaking because he was crying.

Dara put her finger to her lips to shush him then motioned for him to leave. She did not want Edward to be embarrassed by another man seeing him cry. She could tell he put up a tough and courageous façade particularly in front of the other men, and she did not want him to know anyone had seen through that but her. Being a surrogate mother for the boys appealed to her because she could tell they needed someone and she was more than willing to fill that need for them.

* * *

"Thank you for bringing those boys here. I think they will really help me while you're gone," Dara said, as she lay in bed in her husband's arms later that night.

"I think you're right. All of you need someone to take care of so you can take care of each other," he rejoined, kissing her on the lips.

Dara felt her body grow warm and fill with a yearning for him. She held back a moan when he kissed her neck and his palm covered her breast. Shifting uncomfortably from the ache forming between her legs, her lips found his to stifle her moan of arousal from him pinching her nipple gently.

"Jean, we can't. The boys are in the next room," she whispered between the intermittent kisses he placed on her lips.

"They went for a walk. They'll be back soon so we have to hurry. Dara, I need you," he murmured in a pleading voice that she could not refuse. He pushed up her white cotton nightgown and entered her, groaning deeply in his throat.

It felt good now. Oh, god, did it feel good when he made love to her. Dara put her hands on his slim hips, feeling the muscles working underneath as he cautiously moved himself inside of her. She moaned against his neck, feeling him shudder with arousal. She had learned what an orgasm was and he was a great teacher who taught her the lesson over and over. Tonight would be no exception.

"Jean," she moaned when she felt the electrified tingle of pleasure surge through her body. It was building and about to release. Pushing her body up to his, meeting him in midstroke to drive him deeper, she gasped when he touched the deepest part of her.

"Oh, Dara, my darling," he whispered, moving faster which elicited a short sharp wail of pleasure from her.

Dara sighed with ecstasy, burying her face in his neck when her body started to shake uncontrollably. She nipped his neck accidentally, but he did not mind. A long cry, that he covered by pressing his lips to hers, signaled her climax was now complete and wracking her body mercilessly with pleasure as she writhed beneath him. His orgasm soon followed and afterward he held her in his arms until he fell asleep. She was still wide awake, however, and staring at the sliver of the moon high in the night sky outside the glass sliding door of their bedroom entrance to the balcony. She was waiting for Edward and Alphonse to return. Her eyes grew heavy and exhaustion filled her body, but she refused to give into the temptation of sleep. Hearing the front door softly open and close then the low clink of metal against metal coming into the living room, she was able to settle down and go to sleep. All of her boys were home and she was content and relaxed.


	6. The Fuhrer's Tea Party

The Fuhrer's Tea Party

Dara was in the kitchen preparing to bake. It was still too early for Jean to be awake, but her unease about today had cut her sleeping short. She could only imagine what kind of danger awaited her husband and everyone seemed extremely unhappy about her little meeting with the Fuhrer. Having two reasons to be apprehensive and on edge had effectively killed her ability to get a good night's sleep. Baking helped her to relax. She wanted to make some of her favorite pastries and cookies for her tea with the Fuhrer. She planned on making enough so there would be plenty for Jean and his coworkers as well. The low sound of clanking metal behind her alerted her that Alphonse had walked into the kitchen behind her.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse. I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized, attempting to reach the measuring cup that had been pushed too far back on the cabinet shelf.

"I don't sleep. Without a body, I don't need it," he explained, seeing her distress and reaching the cup for her.

"Thank you. Alphonse," she said, looking at him, wishing there was some way to gage what he was feeling. He still felt emotions. She could hear it in his voice when he talked. "What's it like? To be you. If it bothers you to talk about it, you don't have to and I apologize for overstepping – "

"Dara, it's all right. I'm not offended," he assured her. "Let me think for a minute of how to describe it."

Dara flitted around the kitchen gathering ingredients and receiving his assistance for things out of reach on the top shelves. It was nice having a helper for a change. She had always done everything by herself. She smiled and felt a warm content feeling growing inside of her when he continued to assist her by measuring the ingredients. While they worked on the mixing, he began to talk.

"I can see obviously. I can think. I don't sleep. I don't eat. Only a body needs those things. I can feel emotions, but I can't feel things by touch. I don't feel physical pain. I wish I didn't feel emotion pain," he said, the sorrow evident his voice.

Dara was disturbed by the apparent hurt expressed in his childlike voice. He seemed to be hypersensitive emotionally to compensate for the loss of his ability to physically feel. He was very discerning and picked up on the emotions of others easily. She wished she could hug him and he could feel it; feel the warmth, the love, the comfort, but he could not. Tears formed in her eyes, but she tried to hide it.

"Don't cry," he told her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You're so sweet, Al. I just want – " She put her arms around the frigid metal suit knowing he felt nothing but it consoled her in a peculiar way. She shuddered while attempting to conceive what it was like to be him. The thought was unbearable to her.

"Brother is working hard to get our bodies back. One day I can hug you back and feel it just like you want," he said, patting her back. "I look forward to that most of all. I miss the physical contact."

Dara sniffed thinking about how much more perceptive and kind he was than most people despite his obvious differences. These two brothers were definitely something special for many reasons. The more she learned about them, the more she liked them and felt the need to be close to them and protect them. She seriously doubted she could do any real good physically at protecting them but there was also their hearts and minds that needed to be preserved. Maybe, just maybe, she could be what they need to safeguard that part of them. She had always believed everything happened for a reason, and it was no mistake these two desperately hurting teenage boys landed in her lap.

"It's a good thing Jean and Edward are heavy sleepers," she remarked, unintentionally making a lot of banging noise as she got out her baking pans.

Once the first batch of pastries was in the oven, she made a pot of coffee. It was close to time for Jean to be waking up. She and Alphonse were talking about how she and Jean met when he walked in.

"Good morning," she cheerily called, attempting to cover the sadness she felt.

"Good morning, my darling. Morning Alphonse," he said, moving past him to gather her into his arms.

"Morning," he replied, backing out of the small and now crowded kitchen. "I'll leave you two alone."

Dara smiled at his understanding and thoughtfulness especially for one so young. She looked her husband dressed in all black and could not help but notice how sexy and inviting he looked in the tight shirt and form fitting pants. A blush crept across her cheeks from the thoughts that entered her mind. It was funny how she never thought that way before, but things had changed now that she knew what that man could do to her body.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, tickling her a bit to make her giggle.

"You," she answered truthfully, pressing her body into his eyes.

"Oh? Oh!" he breathed when her hand brazenly moved over him below the waist. "Mmmm…if only I had the time to indulge in a little naughtiness with you."

Dara sighed when his mouth covered hers that conveyed how passionately he meant those words. She held him tightly, wanting him to never stop – to never leave. When his lips moved from hers, she pressed her face against his chest and continued to hold him firmly.

"I know. Me too," he whispered, returning the clingy embrace. "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll be waiting for you," she said, forcing herself to hold it together emotionally. There was no need to make this any harder on him than it already was. He stayed with her in the kitchen while she prepared breakfast. They wanted to share every possible second together before he had to leave.

After breakfast and once the goodies were packed up, it was time for him to leave. Dara stood at the front door, staring at the floor while Jean held her and whispered declarations of love and assurances of his safe return to her. She believed him because she had to so she would not go crazy with worry. It was getting harder to hold back the dam of tears. She would engage in a major pity party once he was gone. With one last kiss and 'I love you,' he walked down the hall. She waved as the elevator doors slowly closed and he taken away from her. 'It's only temporary,' she reminded herself, 'he will be back. He has to come back.'

Dara closed the door and leaned against it. The tears fell and so did she in a slow controlled descent down to floor while she leaned against the door. She pulled her apron up to her face to catch her swiftly falling tears. A hand on her shoulder surprised her and her head jerked up to see a very sleepy and half-dressed Edward standing above her. She was too busy grieving to be embarrassed by his immodesty of traipsing around in nothing but boxers and a cut off t-shirt. A sob escaped her when she felt him kneel beside her and put his arms around her. She turned into him, pressing her face into the curve between his shoulder and neck.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this. I-I…" she stuttered then was unable to talk at all when her sobbing began in earnest with a loud wail.

"If I told you it got easier to let people go every time they left I'd be lying," he told her, standing her up and pulling her with him. "We'll be leaving again soon too."

Dara opened her teary eyes to look at him. She had not thought about that. She was able to smile at him as he looked at her with his oversized golden eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fleshly hand.

"Don't worry," he assured her, managing a smile for her too. "We will come back to you as well."

* * *

Dara stood outside the Fuhrer's office staring at the gold plate that bore his name on the dark imposing door. She twisted the handle of the basket of baked goods in her hand nervously. Biting her lip, she forced her hand to raise and knock on the door. A pretty brown haired woman who looked cold and aloof opened the door and eyed her suspiciously.

"My name Juliet Douglas. I'm the Fuhrer's secretary. You must be Dara Havoc," the woman said with unveiled contempt in her voice.

"I must," Dara responded snarkily, glaring at the woman. She did not like her already. It was unusual for her not to like someone so soon.

"Dara, my dear, I've been expecting you," the Fuhrer exclaimed from his desk behind the secretary.

Dara pushed past the rude secretary smiling hatefully at her as the Fuhrer strode to her and took her in his arms. Her smile became even more malicious when annoyance and anger registered on the formerly expressionless face of the soulless secretary. That was it! That is why Dara did not like the woman. Juliet Douglas was completely lacking any real human emotion or warmth. It seemed as if she had no real soul at all, like she was something less than human. Shivering with the thought, she realized she was being led to the Fuhrer's desk by the overly friendly man. His affectionate nature seemed diametrically opposed to his high position particularly since it was being lavished on someone of no real importance like her.

"I brought something for you, Fuhrer," she said, putting the basket on his desk. She unfolded the napkins she had brought and placed a few of the items on them for the Fuhrer to choose. "I made them just for you."

"Miss Douglas, the tea please," he ordered formally, then addressed Dara in a much more friendly manner. "For me? You really are a nice girl."

Dara observed the less than happy secretary when she returned with the tray that was laid with a full tea service. She gave the woman a malicious sneer when she set the tray down with a loud clatter. That woman brought out the worst in her for some strange reason. Waiting until she had walked away, Dara stood up to pour the tea into the delicate china cups with roses on them. She looked at the Fuhrer and returned his pleasant smile as he carefully watched her. She picked up one of the filled cups by the saucer underneath and took it to him.

"Do you take anything in your tea? Cream or sugar?" she inquired, realizing she was eye to eye with him from his sitting position. He was a very big, intimidating man but he did not seem unapproachable to her for some reason.

"I don't need anything, thank you," he answered, putting his large hand on her hip.

Dara gasped and held her breath from the sudden and shocking intimate contact. She tried to move but could not.

"I already have something sweet," he said, picking up one of the cookies but never taking his gaze from her. "You are the perfect candidate."

Dara forced down the lump on her throat to ask, "What do you mean? Candidate for what?"

"I've been looking for a friend, a babysitter, I suppose, for my son Selim," he said, removing his hand from her hip to pick up his tea cup. "Would you like to do that?"

"I suppose. But why me?" she inquired, sitting in her chair across the desk from him.

"Because you're sweet and innocent. A pure soul. The perfect playmate for him," he explained, smiling at her over his teacup.

Dara stayed silent, drinking her tea. It seemed like a nice offer. He wanted her to be his child's babysitter. _"…sweet and innocent. A pure soul. The perfect playmate for him."_ Why did that frighten her?

* * *

Author's Note: I realize I have mixed elements from the 2003 and 2009 anime here. I am not following the storyline of either version. I'm taking certain elements and combining them into a whole new parallel story.


	7. The Rescue

The Rescue

"Dara! Dara!" Edward called, beating on her bedroom door to wake her up.

"Edward, what?" Dara whined, snatching open the door.

"Oh, my…what are you wearing?" Edward asked, staring at her with wide eyed astonishment. She stood in front of him wearing nothing but a white t shirt.

"It's Jean's shirt. It still smells like him. When I wear it don't miss him so much. But…" She shook her head leaning against the door jamb. "Ed, sweetie, why did you wake me up?"

Edward pulled his eyes back up to her face from her legs. He was a fifteen year old boy after all so if something pretty presents herself, he is going to look. When he remembered who he was looking at that way, his face turned cherry red and his eyes fastened themselves to her face to keep from roaming. "Um, Al and I have to leave," he said, not wanting to tell her why.

"In the middle of the night?" she asked, following him when he turned and walked away.

"It's an emergency. Those can happen any time of day," he replied still trying to be vague.

A knock sounded on the front door and Dara pushed past him to answer it when he tried to block her from going.

"Dara, wait!" Edward yelled, but it was too late.

Mustang stood at the door when she opened it. His narrow black eyes grew wide and round, something she did not think possible, while he looked her over from her head to her toes. It still had yet to dawn on her what the men were staring at; her mind did not take midnight wake up calls very well at all. Her anxiety level went through the roof when she saw the Colonel. She wanted answers from one of these men immediately.

"Okay. Now someone tell me what's going on," she demanded, giving each one a nasty look in turn. Not only had she been awakened from a deep sleep, there was obviously something going on that no one wanted to tell her about. If they did not want to tell her, they should have left a note for her then snuck out to leave her sleeping.

"We're going to save your husband. I didn't spend a lot of time and money getting you two together so he could die now. Ed, Al, let's go," Mustang said brusquely, turning to walk down the hall.

"Thank you for being honest, Colonel. I'll bake you something special when you bring him back!" she yelled after him. She waved at Edward and Alphonse before the elevator doors closed.

Everything happened so fast the Colonel's words were not fully comprehended until Dara closed the door. Save him? Mustang's words echoed through her head again. Die. She knew the possibility was there just by virtue of the fact that Jean is a soldier but to hear that he is mortal danger at this moment frightened her and made her feel sick. She rushed to the bathroom for a cold washcloth to press against her face in hopes it would calm the nausea. It did not work. After the horrible ordeal of vomiting and dry heaves was over, she brushed her teeth and lay back down in the bed. She inched over to Jean's side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. He will be back. He has to come back. Hugging his pillow to her chest, she curled her body around it. Her mind played back all the good memories like a movie until she went to sleep.

* * *

Dara stood in front of the Fuhrer's mansion gathering up the courage to ring the doorbell. After finding a tiny shred of bravery, she hurriedly jabbed the button and stepped back. A liveried butler answered the door and allowed her to come in. She followed him into the large parlor to the right, sitting down on one of the couches that were in the room. When the Fuhrer, Mrs. Bradley, and Selim walked into the room, she stood to her feet to greet them.

The Fuhrer gave her one of his very warm greetings that included a hug before he introduced his wife and son. Mrs. Bradley had light brown hair and beautiful dark gray eyes that were kind and friendly. She was dressed in a prim pink suit with a pearl and gold broach at the neck of her white shirt and low heeled shoes; she was the epitome of what a First Lady should look like. There was a quiet confidence about her that comforted Dara.

Selim rushed forward, sticking out his hand to shake hers just like a miniature grown up; he was all of about ten years old. He was terribly cute with short black hair and big black eyes. He was still wearing his uniform from school complete with short pants, jacket, and tie.

"This is Dara Havoc," the Fuhrer announced, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"So you're the new friend my daddy picked out for me?" Selim asked excitedly staring up at her.

"I-I suppose I am," Dara responded with a smile. It was safe to say the interview was over and it was a success. It appeared she had been given the approval of both father and son. Mrs. Bradley offered only a serene smile to signal her endorsement.

"I wrote an essay about my daddy! I got an A on it!" he exclaimed with overflowing enthusiasm.

"I'd love to hear it," she rejoined, watching him run from the room. She assumed he disappeared to retrieve the paper.

"He sure did take to you fast. He doesn't do that with many people. I'm sure you will take good care of him. One of these days, you could possibly be the most important person in his life," he assured her.

"Oh, Fuhrer Bradley, you're over exaggerating," she stated nervously while a blush tinted her cheeks.

Dara restlessly twisted one of her curls around her finger. She offered the Fuhrer an uneasy smile then stared at the floor. He was making her feel extremely uncomfortable by the way he kept looking at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach up to stroke his moustache as if he were thinking. What could he possibly be thinking about while he gazed at her that way? Thankfully, Selim come running back in with the paper before the moment could get any more awkward.

Dara followed the little boy to the couch where she sat with him to listen to his report. She smiled as he read it aloud because the pride came through his voice loud and clear. His daddy was his hero and the champion of the people judging from his paper that he wrote. When he was done, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the backyard to play.

"She's a lovely girl. Selim seems to really like her," Mrs. Bradley commented to her husband as they watched two play tag in the backyard from the large parlor window.

"Yes. I believe she's the one he's been looking for," Fuhrer Bradley responded. He did not notice the questioning look on his wife's face.

Dara played with Selim until the sun was setting low in the sky. She bid the family farewell, gave the little boy a hug, and left. When she arrived at her apartment, she found a visibly upset blond in a red coat and a suit of armor waiting for her.

"Where have you been?" Edward yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"I-I was at my job," she stammered, taken aback by his loud outburst. She had been warned about his violent temper but this would be the first time she had experienced it firsthand.

"Come on. We have to go," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down the hall.

"Go? Go where? Stop it, Ed!" she shrieked, digging in her heels to bring them both to a halt.

Edward spun around to face her and was about to yell at her when he saw the tears in her eyes. In his haste, he had grabbed her with the automail hand. He immediately released her wrist to see that it was red and beginning to swell.

"D-did I-I h-hurt y-you," he stuttered, seeing the tear slide from her eye.

"Not too much," she lied, rubbing her sore wrist. It hurt – a lot! It was not broken, but she hoped it was not sprained either. He was on the verge of breaking it though when she screamed for him to stop. She did not want him to know he hurt her because she knew it was unintentional. "Now calm down and tell me what's wrong."

"We need to go to the hospital. Jean and Mustang both are there," Edward told her, making sure he took her hand with his real hand this time.

"Oh, no," she gasped, following him compliantly. Her eyes moved over Alphonse noticing the big gaping hole in the belly part of his armor. "Al, what happened to you?"

"Oh, here," Edward said, dropping her hand. He placed both of his hands over the hole in Alphonse's armor. "Let me fix that."

Dara stared as a blue glow grew under Edward's hands and the armor seemed to grow and fix itself. For the first time ever she was able to see Alchemy practiced first hand. She asked for an explanation and Edward told her that he had rearranged the particles in the armor and stretched them out to cover the hole.

"If he keeps getting damaged like this, there won't be enough of him left to make repairs and maintain the integrity of the suit," Edward said, banging on his brother's chest with his fist.

"Stop it, brother," Alphonse whined.

Dara could not tell if Alphonse was embarrassed or irritated by his brother – quite possibly both. She held both of their hands as they led her to the hospital. She was afraid if she did not hang on to them, she would give into the weakness making her knees wobble. There were many questions swirling in her head, but she was too stunned and afraid to open her mouth and ask them. They arrived at the hospital and the boys led her straight to the room where both Jean and Mustang were recuperating.

"He's alive. Just keep that in mind," Edward said when they paused outside of the door. He led her in by the hand after Alphonse opened the door.

Colonel Mustang was lying in the first bed. He was awake and staring at the ceiling when they entered. His head snapped up when he hear them, and he glared disapprovingly at the boys. His expression softened when he looked at her, offering her a weak smile.

Dara looked at him seeing many cuts and scratches on his face. Her faced turned pink when she saw his pajama top was completely unbuttoned; half of his well-defined chest and abdomen was covered with bandages. One of his arms was also in a sling. She moved her eyes to the other bed where Jean lay. It was a good thing Edward had reminded her he was alive because she would have thought otherwise when she saw him. His torso was completely wrapped with bandages. His usually golden tanned skin was a deathly pale color. He was unconscious and had an oxygen mask over his face.

"Oh, Jean," she murmured, sitting down on the bed beside him. Her fingers traced the edge of his face as she gazed at him with tears in her eyes. She ran her hand through his hair and found traces of dried blood along his hairline. There were numerous scrapes and cuts on his face and arms. What happened to them?

"Dara, are you all right?" the Colonel asked, getting out of his bed to go to her. He put his big hand on her shoulder.

Dara nodded her head, unable to speak. She was thankful for the physical contact because it kept her tied to reality. However, it was easier to believe this was all a nightmare she would wake up from at any second. Her hands continued to explore her husband's body to check his wounds.

"They said he should be waking up in a few days. It is easier for his body to heal itself while he unconscious. He will be okay. I promise," Mustang whispered to her, burying his face in her soft hair as he clutched her shoulder. If only he had both arms to hold her at this time.

Dara reached back to place her hand over his. She turned toward him, feeling the smooth skin of his chest against her cheek. "Colonel, how can you promise me something like that?"

"Because I know him. He's a fighter. He loves you too much to give up," he placed his arm over her chest, embracing her the best way he could with one arm. "He will be fine."

The Colonel did not know he was being closely observed by a protective blond and his equally protective brother. Edward and Alphonse would be sure to stay close to her at all times in the hospital room.

Dara felt Mustang trembling against her before something wet drop onto her hand and chest. It was startling yet reassuring to know that the manly and seemingly emotionless Colonel Mustang was crying with her. It was nice to know he was human after all.


	8. The Recovery

The Recovery

Mustang looked down at the sleeping woman lying next to her unconscious husband. He had held her while she cried then thankfully she had snuggled up next to Jean and fell asleep. It was probably helping the both of them by her doing that. His fingers pushed her hair back from her face and brushed through the full length of it. He smiled when she shifted and tightened her arm around Jean's waist.

"Colonel –" Edward began to be cut off by his very angry superior.

"Outside now," Mustang hissed not wanting to talk any louder and chance waking the exhausted woman. "We need to talk."

"I know you told me not to bring her here," Edward said before the door was even closed.

"I _ordered _you not to bring her here, Ed! You insolent, insubordinate little bastard! You defied a direct order!" the furious Colonel bellowed.

"Yes, and I would do it again for her, Mustang!" the incensed blond yelled back.

"Oh, yeah, shorty! It doesn't take much to make you defy authority anyway! You couldn't follow an order if your life depended on it! And sometimes it does, you idiot!" the equally angry man shouted.

"Shorty! SHORTY! Who are you calling short you womanizing heartless prick?" Edward hollered shamelessly.

"What is going on out here?" a new and louder voice boomed. Both men screamed like girls when they felt themselves being lifted off their feet by their collars. A fuming, red faced hulk with a single blond curl and deadly blue eyes pierced them with an angry gaze because of their ridiculous behavior. "Gentlemen, this is VERY inappropriate behavior for a hospital," Alex Louis Armstrong informed them, setting them back down on their feet. "We have to hold it together for our friends in there."

* * *

Dara awoke with a start, groaning from the harsh fluorescent light. She knew exactly where she was at; in the hospital, lying next to her husband. She kissed his cheek and eased off the bed. Going to the bed of the sleeping Colonel Mustang, she touched his face while she looked at him. A smile curled her lips because of how sweet and innocent he looked when he was asleep. She pushed back the wispy bangs from his forehead and planted a kiss there.

"Thank you, Colonel, for bringing him back," she whispered. She walked to the couch in the room where Edward was asleep. Alphonse was standing watch in the corner. "Do you want to go home with me for a while? I want to do some baking and I need a helper. Bring Ed and you can lay him in my bed so he can get some real sleep."

"All right," Alphonse agreed, bending down to pick up his sleeping brother.

Dara smiled as she watched the suit of armor with a whole lot of heart lovingly position his sleeping brother in his arms to carry him in a way that he would be most comfortable. She pushed Edward's long bangs back out of his face to see he was not fazed at all by being jostled around.

"Brother's a hard sleeper," Alphonse stated although it was already apparent.

"Al, tell me what happened," Dara requested as they began to walk.

"No," he answered bluntly.

"Al, please, I want to know," she pled with him.

"No, Dara. It's too horrible. I won't tell you. And neither will Ed," he added when her eyes fell on the sleeping blond.

Dara sighed heavily with resignation because she could hear the determination in his voice. She already knew how stubborn and tenacious the brothers could be simply by the things they had lived through so far in their short, harrowing lives. Letting the subject drop, she turned her mind to deciding what she should bake.

* * *

"Here. You'll love this," Dara assured Mustang, sitting on the bed next to him. She lay the napkin across his lap then set a raspberry white chocolate chip scone on it. "This is your favorite right?"

"Yeah," he responded with a big smile, picking it up. "I can't believe you remembered."

"I told you I'd bake you something when you brought Jean home," she reminded him, wiping the crumbs from his chin. "How's he doing?"

"Dara, it will take time, but he will recover," he assured her, studying her with his black eyes as she stared at her husband in the next bed. Taking her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze, he held it briefly, then let it go. She belonged to Jean, and he would not act on the lustful thoughts he was having.

The door opened and the Fuhrer walked in.

"Colonel Mustang," Fuhrer Bradley greeted him formally receiving a salute from the Colonel.

"Fuhrer Bradley, what a nice surprise. Excuse me if I don't get up," he sneered, unable or unwilling to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Dara looked at Mustang, her eyes meeting his briefly as the Fuhrer crossed the room to her for his customary way of saying hello with a hug. She could see this displeased the Colonel greatly when the fake smile fell from his face and his already narrow eyes became mere slits with unmasked anger.

"I came as soon as I heard what happened. I'm so sorry," Fuhrer Bradley stated with sincerity that obviously Mustang was not buying by the rage intensifying on his face.

Dara sat down on the bed beside Jean, holding his hand and patting it. "Fuhrer Bradley, I don't know when or even if I will be back to take care of Selim. He's a sweet little boy and I'd really like to babysit him...but I just can't."

"That's all right, my dear. I understand. Your husband needs you." He turned on his heel and headed toward the door. "Well, I'll be going. Once again, Mrs. Havoc. I'm very sorry for what happened to your husband."

Dara shivered when he left the room. It was as if a chilling breeze had suddenly invaded the room then left along with him.

"Dara, I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but stay away from that man," Mustang warned, his face neutral but serious.

"Why?" she inquired, thoroughly confused by his adverse reaction. She did not understand any of these people or why she had these strange feelings sometimes. There was something going on here so far beyond her ability to comprehend and grasp the full meaning that it unnerved her tremendously. It was frustrating and infuriating to be so ill-informed and just plain ignorant.

"Please trust me. Just don't go near him again," he implored her but in a very direct, demanding manner.

Dara turned her attention to her husband instead of wasting time pondering what it all meant. She leaned over, kissing his forehead. Pulling away the oxygen mask, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips then replaced it. She lay down beside him with her lips next to his ear.

"I love you, Jean. Please, come back to me. I'm waiting. I'll be right here. Come home, honey," she whispered to him, holding his hand and placing her hand over his heart. She continued to talk to him until her throat was dry and sore.

* * *

Dara spent most of her time at the hospital. She would take a break to go home, usually to take a shower and bake something. The nurses began to look forward to her return and Mustang always did too because they knew she had some wonderfully delicious baked treat with her. This also garnered extra special attention for her husband which she was thankful for. By the end of the week, the tan color had returned to his skin and he could breathe without the oxygen mask.

Mustang was released after that first week, but he would return every day to visit. And to enjoy the baked goods but she did not mind. Edward and Alphonse stayed with her as much as possible and would stay with Jean during her breaks to go home. They left her alone with him at night. Dara was glad for the alone times. That was when she would cry. She would cry at night and beg Jean to wake up, to come back to her. She needed him. She missed him.

* * *

It was the beginning of the second day of the third week. The rising sun shining through the window burned her eyes. Dara had not slept well that night. Her husband had moved several times during the night and each time she would awaken in hopes he would soon open his eyes and look at her. It never happened. She felt him stir again, and she patted his chest.

"Please wake up soon," she whispered, feeling the tears building behind her eyes.

"Dara," Jean called weakly, his hand covering hers that was laying on his chest.

"Jean? Jean!" she squealed, popping up next to him to look at his face. "Oh, honey, are you really awake?"

"Miss me?" he croaked giving her a wan smile as his eyes fluttered in an attempt to open.

"Yes, yes, I did," she replied with a mixture of laughter and tears. She leaned down to press a kiss to his lips which he responded to by kissing back. "Oh, Jean Havoc, I love you! Don't you ever scare me like this again!"

"Scare you? I don't want to scare _me_ like this again," he laughed lightly, opening his bright blue eyes wide to look at his wife. "You're so beautiful. I was so scared I would never see you again."

"I know how you feel," she said, laying her head on his chest while he enclosed her with his arms and held her tightly.

"Well, look who's awake!" the Colonel exclaimed when he walked into the room. He came to the bed, leaning over Dara to grab the hand of his adored subordinate. The man would never admit it but he cared deeply for every single person under his command. "Welcome back sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

"Yeah. But next time just give me a valium or something," Jean quipped, chuckling a bit.

A doctor walked in and came to the bed to check on him. Dr. Marcoh was quite pleased that Jean was awake. Once Dara and Mustang were out of the way, he began a thorough examination including unwrapping the bandages.

Dara gasped and covered her mouth when she saw the huge wound on his lower abdomen along with several others across his abdomen and chest. They appeared to be massive stab wounds but she wondered what could cause the big round punctures that looked like a hole had been punched right through him. No wonder he nearly died.

"You have a very strong, stubborn husband, Mrs. Havoc. He will be weak for a little while but nothing time and a little bed rest won't cure," he told her, preparing to leave the room. "He can go home in a few days."

"Oh, thank you doctor!" she exclaimed, jumping up to place a kiss on his wrinkled cheek then hugging him.

"Wow, you haven't seen that much action in decades have you?" Mustang joked, effectively wiping the grin from the other man's hardened face.

"Shut up, Roy," he barked, stomping out of the room.

Mustang turned to see the happy couple sharing a long awaited kiss that was not meant for inquisitive eyes. Without a word, he backed out of the room thinking it might be better if he comes back later for a visit.

"Jean, I was so afraid. I couldn't have survived if I lost you," she murmured, placing her hand on his cheek.

"Please don't talk about that. It doesn't matter now. I'm here," he said, pulling her down to his chest.

Dara snuggled up to him, content to hold him in her arms with the knowledge that he is going to be just fine. She felt Jean's body begin to tremble as he tightened his hold on her. Her head lifted slightly to see that his eyes were squeezed shut like her was trying not to see something.

"Jean, are you all right?" she asked, her eyebrows pinching together with worry.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he lied, opening his eyes to look at her.

"Jean," she sighed.

Jean held her tightly while many questions ran through his head. How long would the memories replay in his head? How long would he be tormented by the events of that day? Would he ever be free from it? Would he be able to protect her? Would he be able to keep her safe from _them_?


	9. A Whole New Life

A Whole New Life

Dara woke up to find herself in her husband's arms. She smiled and snuggled down into the thick comforter relishing the warmth and security of her husband's body that was pressed against hers. He had been home for two weeks. The doctor had cleared him as of yesterday to go back to all normal activities including work. He was not so thrilled actually about going back to work but it was nice that he was physically able to do so. She had been worried about him the past few days because he always seemed to be lost in thought, pondering something like he was trying to find the answer to an unanswerable question.

"Dara," Jean whispered, kissing the back of her neck. "I've missed you."

"Oh!" she gasped when he rubbed against her and she felt something long and hard across her back. "I can tell. Are you sure you want to?"

"Oh, yes, I definitely want to," he replied, moving against her again. "I have no doubt that I can."

Dara turned into him, sliding her fingers through his hair. Her eyes met his momentarily before they closed when he kissed her. She moved her hand along his chest while he kissed her tenderly, holding back from giving her the rough consuming kiss he wanted to. She could feel him holding back so she grabbed his face pulling his lips hard against hers while her tongue thrust into his mouth. His moan of surprise and pleasure excited her so much she reached down to seize his throbbing member.

"Oh, honey," he groaned against her mouth. He pulled up her nightgown, pushing into her fast and hard. "Oh, Dara, oh god, I've missed you."

Dara felt the heat deep inside of her grow and get stronger from his enthusiastic declarations. She pushed him over onto his back, straddling his hips. Her body tingled as he cried out with pleasure and joy from her astounding boldness. She moved tentatively on top of him until his large hands completely engulfed her rear to hold her and move her faster across him. Leaning forward and pressing her hands to his chest, she thrust her hips harder, making them both cry out with ecstasy. The wondrous thing called an orgasm swelled and surged over her like and ocean wave, dousing her from head to toe with a warm, tingling feeling.

"Dara!" he yelled, thrusting into her one last hard time when his orgasm discharged and made him convulse beneath her with several loud moans of pleasure. He pulled her down beside him, kissing her as he held her close.

Dara tucked the covers back around them as they kissed and hugged each other in the fabulous afterglow. She did not realize how much she had missed their intimate moments until now. Her eyes trailed down his neck, watching the big artery there throb with his blood that pulsed through it. Pressing her fingertips to it, she thought about how thankful she was that he was still alive. Her fingers trailed down to his chest where they traced the round, concave, dark purple scars that were each about two inches across.

"What happened?" she asked, raising her eyes to his. Dark blue eyes held pleading brown ones for a long silent moment.

"It's a long story. I'll have to begin from a ways back before I got hurt," he said, running his fingers through her hair. He held quite a few misgivings and a lot of trepidation about telling her any of this, but she needed to know. She was his wife, and she had almost lost him. She deserved to know why.

"Where else have I got to go? I'll be right here with you. Tell me," she encouraged him, giving him a brief kiss on the lips.

Dara listened intently as he explained. She occasionally she would interrupt to ask a question so he would clarify the things she really did not comprehend at all. From what she understood there were these things, people, that were brought back to life using something called a philosopher's stone. These people were called homunculi. The stone was made up of the souls of many dead people and that was what reanimated these so called homunculi and gave them their incredible powers and abilities. They were named after the seven deadly sins. There were very powerful people behind all of this which ultimately led up to one person and they were trying to discover the identity that person. There were many people shielding him, weaving a tangled web of deception to keep him hidden so that the task to find him seemed overwhelming, hopeless, and impossible at best. Jean had been attacked by a woman named Lust. Her hand had transformed into long round knife like things that she used to puncture her victims and kill them. He had sustained several serious but not life threatening wounds when she had him trapped and was going in for the kill. Alphonse had appeared and shielded Jean which is how got the big tear in his armor. Despite the presence of the suit of armor, he had still gotten stabbed. If Alphonse had not been in front of him, he would have been pierced clear through and his spinal cord severed. If he had survived, he would have been paralyzed.

Dara fought to hold back the tears. She did not want to appear weak or unable to cope with the startling truth. If she broke down, he might not tell her anything else. Laying her head against his chest so he could not see her face, she fought to control her fear and her tears.

"What is this about you babysitting Selim Bradley?" he asked, running his hand up and down her arm. He kissed the top of her head, content to have her nestled in the crook of his neck and tucked firmly against his body.

"The Fuhrer offered me job to help take care of his son. I get bored sitting around here all day and I thought I could help out a little by doing that," she replied, feeling the tears dissipate since they had changed subjects.

"It's too dangerous. Don't go there again," he ordered her in no uncertain terms.

"But why?" she inquired, sitting up to see his face. A strange combination of fear and sadness was evident in his blue eyes.

"We think he's part of this," he answered bluntly. "We're not sure exactly how he's involved, but we're pretty sure he's one of the bigger players in this game."

Dara closed her eyes, pressing her hand against her forehead. That alone would have been hard to process but it was an overload of information when coupled with the other revelations.

"Are you all right?" Jean asked, pulling her hand away.

"I'm okay," she replied, opening her eyes to look at him. "It's a lot to think about."

"Dara, I'm thinking about resigning from the military. Would you mind being a shopkeeper's wife? I want to move back East and help my parents run the store. I want to take you away from all of this. I want to come home to you every day. I-I want to leave so I don't have to worry each morning if this will be the day I die and leave you alone," he said, stroking her arm. He thought she would be happy. Instead she appeared to be upset and distressed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You won't be leaving your friends when they need you most? They won't think you're running out on them?" She had unknowingly pierced his heart by questioning his loyalty.

Jean sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling. He had thought about that. He did indeed feel like he would be abandoning them. His need to protect her and be with her was stronger. Surely they would understand. His thoughts were broken by her suddenly clambering off the bed to run to the bathroom.

"What the…" He could hear her vomiting profusely and wondered what the heck could be wrong.

* * *

Dr. Marcoh smiled broadly when he reentered the room. He looked at the nervous couple holding hand while waiting for answers. He had one for them, and it was a great one too.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Havoc, I'm proud to inform you that you are going to parents. Congratulations, Dara. You're pregnant," he announced, shaking the stunned father's hand when he stood up.

"Th-thank you, Doctor," Jean stuttered, still too shocked to say anything else. His brain immediately kicked into gear with one thought. Grabbing the hand of his wife and the mother of his child, he set out for Mustang's office with determination.

* * *

"You want to do WHAT?" the Colonel bellowed, standing up behind his desk. He was so angry his ivory skinned face had turned a pink color.

"I'm resigning Colonel Mustang. I'm moving back East with my wife and child. I have to stay alive for them," he said with stubborn resolve.

"Havoc, dammit!" he yelled, shoving the huge stack of papers off his desk. He was so upset Riza's startled cry went completely unnoticed. Havoc's reasons for wanting to go were valid. He understood them completely but he would be losing a valuable subordinate. Then it struck him how close he had already been to losing a valued soldier and friend. His eyes landed on the pretty wife that had almost been made a widow and that took away his righteous indignation. Falling into his chair heavily, he hung his head in apparent defeat. "Go file the necessary paperwork and bring it straight back to me. I'll sign it today."

"Thank you, Colonel Mustang," Dara said happily. News of the baby had changed her attitude about the whole matter as well. In her delight, she rushed forward to the saddened man, lifting up his head. She pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss to show her gratitude. "Thank you."

Colonel Mustang smiled at her as she backed away to once again stand beside her husband, his soldier and friend, holding on to him tightly. He could make him stay; he could force it with the threat of court marshal and time in the brig, but he would not. Letting him go would give Havoc the chance to have something he would never get – a happily ever after with a family.

* * *

Jean's parents were understandably upset with him for not only finding the woman he would marry, but marrying her and getting her pregnant, before he even introduced them. However, they were exceedingly glad he would be coming home so they would be able to see their grandchild grow up.

Moving day was a terribly sad affair with much weeping; mostly on the parts of Hughes and Armstrong. All of their friends were happy to be seeing them go to a much safer place where they would be able to raise their child in a modicum of peace and safety, much more than they would have in Central City. With promises to write often and visit when possible, they were on their way to a whole new life.

"This is it?" Dara asked as they approached the stucco building with a red roof at the end of the street. She was glad he did not make fun of her because there was a huge sign over the door that read in big bold letters: Havoc General Store.

"This is it," he repeated, but drove past. He was taking her to the home he had bought for them first.

"Oh, my, and this is our home?" she inquired with childlike wonder.

It was a plain structure with cream colored stucco walls and large windows. There were three bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. A large porch ran the full length of the house on the back that overlooked a big yard complete with a huge oak tree that was in need of a swing. A white picket fence surrounded the whole property. It was the perfect home to raise a family.

"It's so wonderful," she gasped, throwing herself into her husband's arms.

"Whoa! What's all this?" he asked when he heard her sobs.

"I'm just so happy!" she wailed tearfully.

"I'll never understand you, but I love you anyway," he chuckled, stroking her hair and back. "Are you ready to meet my parents?"


	10. Meet the Havocs

Meet the Havocs

"Mama! MAMA!" Jean yelled when he walked into the front door of the store.

There was something so cute about a grown man yelling for his mama. Dara smiled broadly while he held her hand tightly and pulled her around the store in his search for his mother.

"Son, what's all the yelling about?" his father asked when he walked in the front door.

Dara turned to see what her husband would look like in twenty or so years. She blinked in surprise staring at his father who was definitely responsible for his looks. The hair was much shorter but the same shade of sandy blond and there were a few wrinkles at the corners of his deep blue eyes that were gained from years of happiness. She would definitely like to see Jean earn those smile lines over the next twenty years.

"Hey, Pop! This is her. This is Dara, my wife," he said proudly, presenting her to his father.

"It's nice to meet you," his father said to her, shaking her hand politely while giving her a familiar thousand watt smile like she had seen on her husband's face.

"It's definitely nice to meet you," she rejoined, returning the captivating smile.

"Jean! JEAN!" his mother exclaimed with unbridled delight, rushing to him.

"Mama!" he bellowed excitedly, picking the small woman up and swinging her around.

"Stop that you, silly boy!" she lovingly chided him, slapping him on the chest. "Put me down. I want to meet my daughter in law."

Jean did as he was ordered by his mother and put her down. Mrs. Havoc was the same height and build as Dara. Her blond hair was pulled up and twisted into a tidy bun on the back of her head. Her bright blue eyes were the same color as sapphires and sparkled just as beautifully. She looked kind and gentle as she held open her arms to give her new daughter-in- law a hug to welcome her.

"She's beautiful, Jean," Mrs. Havoc complimented, looking at her with approval and love. She pressed her hand against Dara's belly, inquiring, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"The doctor said about six weeks. I'm so glad we're here, Mrs. Havoc," she said, hugging the woman again as tears came to her eyes.

"Mama, Dara's parents are dead. She's been alone for a while so –" He stopped talking when his mother waved a hand to shush him. He forgot that women understood these things and did not need explanations especially where emotions were concerned.

"Now, dear, why don't you come with me? I'll make us some coffee and we can get to know each other," Mrs. Havoc proposed, leading her to the back of the store that connected to their house.

Dara felt so comfortable with her new mother-in-law. It was so nice to have a mother again. The fact that it was her husband's mother made it even more special.

"Do you like to bake?" Mrs. Havoc asked, preparing the coffee.

"Oh, baking is my life. And that's not an overstatement. I can mix up something if you like. It won't take long, and I don't mind," she offered with obvious zeal.

"The pantry is all yours. See what you can find and surprise me," his mother good naturedly suggested with a big smile.

While Dara was poking around and gathering ingredients, she explained about the bakery her parents owned. As she worked, she continued to talk, spilling her whole life story while her mother-in-law patiently listened. By the time she was ready to put the raspberry jam cookies in the oven, she had told her everything all the way to the present point of when they arrived this morning. Dara poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table to sip while the cookies were baking.

"I am so proud of my son. You are the sweetest thing," Mrs. Havoc gushed, patting Dara's hand.

"You have a wonderful son. I'm so glad he chose me," she responded, smiling contentedly.

"Now let me tell you a few things about that boy when he was young."

Dara could hardly wait to hear this. His mother regaled her with stories of his youth and made her laugh until she cried at times. He was the typical rambunctious boy who loved to climb trees and play in mud. He would stick frogs and snakes in his pockets, forgetting to release them at the end of his busy day of play. They would inevitably scare the living daylights out of his mother when she found them while checking his clothes. As he got older he became fond of silly pranks, half of which he would fall victim to himself. The most memorable occasion of a prank that backfired, literally, was when he put fireworks in the outhouse then developed a sudden upset stomach. That was not a good day for anyone involved.

Dara was crying again from laughing when Jean and his father walked in. She got up to greet her husband with a hug, and he held her close, kissing her cheek.

"Oh, Jean, it's okay. You're mother has just been telling me stories about you. I bet you were thankful when indoor plumbing came along weren't you?" she inquired, her whole body shaking in his arms as she laughed.

"Mama!" Jean whined, his face turning pink. "How could you?"

"Oh, honey, calm down. She's your wife for pete's sake. Here have a cookie," she said, taking it to him and shoving it in his mouth. "I think I'm going to ask your wife to start baking some things for us to sell in the store. I believe everyone will like them."

"Really?" Dara asked, completely thrilled with the idea.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," his father added, grabbing two more cookies from the tray.

"Well, darling, it seems you've got a job to keep you busy," Jean said, hugging his wife to his side.

Dara could barely sleep that night from sheer excitement. She could not be happier or love her new in laws more. She would be baking again and not just recreationally. Her husband was by her side, and she was going to be a mother. It was all so incredibly wondrous.

* * *

"Hey, Dara! Can you make some more chocolate chip cookies? We're nearly out," Mrs. Havoc informed her with a proud grin.

"Of course," she answered enthusiastically. "I'll start on those now."

Dara was as pleased as she could be. She had been baking her goodies for the Havoc General Store for a month at this time. Her baked goods had become a real hit with the townspeople and more and more people were coming in every day to buy them. The store was getting so busy the Havocs jokingly threatened to move her into a place of her own to have her business. By this time she was about ten weeks pregnant and the reality had definitely sunk in with the horrible morning sickness that seemed to last all day some days. She baked all day in the Havoc's kitchen since she would be right next to the store. It was fun to be able to receive frequent visits from her husband who would steal kisses, hugs, and cookies from her. She went home exhausted every day but it was the satisfied, content kind of worn-out.

Today Dara had a wonderful surprise waiting on her doorstep. She was greeted by a short blond and a tall suit of armor that she had not seen in over two months. Tears of joy flooded down her face as she hugged them. She had an idea of what Mrs. Havoc felt like when she saw her son after a long separation. Quickly herding them into the house and into the kitchen, she unpacked the basket of baked goods she had brought home. Edward swiftly demolished every single crumb before she even had the water heated for the tea. She knew Jean would bring anything that did not sell home with him which was a good thing since the boys were here.

"I couldn't believe it when Mustang told me Jean resigned and you two moved out here. Are you happy? You look happy. This was probably the best decision he's ever made," Edward rambled elatedly. He was thrilled to know they had moved away from Central and all of the subversive matters that were taking place. They were all in danger on a daily basis there, but at least Dara and Jean had gotten out before things became so terrible.

"Is it true that you're going to be a mother?" Alphonse asked with childlike excitement.

"Why yes, it is. I'm just over two months pregnant," she said, patting her abdomen which was still flat.

"So you found out right after we left huh?" The sadness was evident in Edward's voice.

"You didn't leave because you wanted to." She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. "But you're with me now. I'm so glad you're here. Jean will be thrilled to see you. Guess what? We even have a room for you this time. It can be your room whenever you come to visit."

"That sounds great," he rejoined with a smile.

"Would you like a tour of the house? Then we can go to the general store to see Jean," she said, holding Edward's hand as she led him through the house.

Edward was comforted by her incessant chatter. He was soothed by hearing about their tranquil, mundane life that was so damn perfect because it was so boring and routine. The last two months had been pure hell. He wondered if he should even burden Jean with the events that have transpired. Hughes was dead. Fuhrer Bradley was a homunculi. Mustang's group had been separated and sent to the far corners of Amestris. On and on the list went of horrifying revelations and events. He had come here seeking solace from the pain that was threatening to drive him insane. Outside in the backyard, he broke.

Dara gasped with astonishment when Edward unexpectedly grabbed her and buried his face against her chest. She could feel his body shaking, then he unleashed a mournful cry that chilled her blood. There was so much agony in that desolate sound. Her arms twined around his shoulders, pulling him close. She untied his hair, raking her fingers through his long blond locks to calm him. Her tears began to fall in response to his overwhelming sorrow that he could not seem to bear alone.

Alphonse stood next to them with a hand on each of their backs. He had to do something, some small gesture to show that he was there for them. If only he could shed tears. If only he could embrace them. Dammit! One of these days he would have his body back. Edward had promised, and big brother always kept his promises.

Dara held on to the emotionally wounded young man in her arms until his body stopped trembling and his breathe quit hitching from the powerful sobbing he had endured. She kissed his forehead and wiped the remaining tears from his face with the hem of her long dress. Her eyes moved to Alphonse, and she reached up to touch one of the cold, polished plates where his cheek would be. If only there was some comfort she could offer him.

"Come on, let's go see, Jean," Dara said, taking them both by a hand to lead them to the store.

Halfway there, Jean saw them down the street and ran to greet them. He gave Edward a warm hug and welcomed Alphonse the same way. Despite knowing the boy's predicament, they still treated him as fully human because the most human part of him still existed and needed to be nurtured.

"I'm so glad to see you guys! It's great that you came to visit!" he exclaimed with sincerity.

They took the boys inside to meet his parents who accepted them as just another part of the family. After eating dinner at Jean's parents' house, they returned to their home with their visitors.

Dara made hot chocolate for them and filled a tray with treats. She took it to the living room and sat it on the coffee table.

"Jean, there's something the boys need to discuss with you. I'm a little tired so I'll take junior and myself up to bed," she announced, patting her belly. She kissed Edward on the forehead and hugged him. She hugged Alphonse as well. After making it a habit, it did not seem so bizarre anymore.

"I'll walk up to bed, sweetie," Jean offered, taking her by the hand to lead her to their room. "You could stay. I know you would like to listen and know what's going on."

"No, that's all right. I really am ready for bed. Besides, I think they need that time alone with you. Kind of like a father-son thing," she said with a smile.

"I love you. You're so smart. It's one of the many reasons I love you," he murmured, kissing her briefly then going back for a longer, more intense kiss.

"I have all the emotional intelligence. You're no dumb blond, you know. I love you too," she returned the heartfelt sentiment.

"I'll be up as soon as I can," he assured her with one last kiss.

Dara smiled and watched him leave. She dressed for bed and slid in between the cool yet inviting sheets. Her body ached, and she was exhausted. The morning sickness had been strictly in the morning today. It was getting better and would hopefully end soon. She patted her belly with the vision of all things pink and blue revolving around in her head like a child's mobile. Falling asleep easily, she dreamed of the baby she carried within her.


	11. What does it Mean?

What does it Mean

Dara awoke in the dim gloomy light of dawn and knew she was alone. If her husband had been in the bed with her, she would have been firmly encircled in his arms. A smile touched her lips when she remembered she has awakened a time or two with his legs wrapped around her as well. He always liked to remind her of how he would never let her go, even in his sleep. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a mother monkey, although her baby had much longer arms and legs. Giggling lightly to herself from the memory, she got out of bed to slide on her robe to go to him. Judging by Edward's reaction yesterday, their discussion last night would be have been extremely serious and would inevitably upset Jean. She knew right where he would be. Walking out onto the back porch, she could see his silhouette as he leaned against one of the square white posts. The smell of acrid smoke filled her nostrils about the same time she saw the glowing red tip of his cigarette as he took a drag. He had not smoked since they had left Central. This worried her because it meant he was extraordinarily troubled.

"Jean," she said in a soft voice to notify him of her presence. She did not want to frighten him while he was lost in deep thought.

"Honey, come here," he requested, holding his arms open for her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, feeling him shudder in her arms. It had nothing to do with the faint chill in the air either.

"No," he answered bluntly. "Dara, are you ready to hear it?" he inquired, kissing her forehead while he held her so tightly she could barely breath.

"Yes. Tell me," she answered, enclosing his waist with her arms. She listened in complete silence while he unloaded the burden of information plaguing his mind. Her attention perked up greatly upon hearing the news that the Fuhrer himself was one of those odious creatures called a Homunculus.

"He was going to abduct you, Dara. He was going to take you to the man they call Father, the one who created them. The Fuhrer wanted you to be another human based homunculus like him. He-he…" Jean stuttered and stopped, squeezing her briefly. "He wanted to make you his since you would be just like him."

"Oh, dear," she mumbled, feeling nauseated. She knew it was from that unwelcome knowledge and not morning sickness. The abundance of affection and long stares suddenly made sense. She shivered with the horrifying thought of being one of those…_things_. And belonging to the Fuhrer? What exactly did that mean? Would she have been his adulterous lover? A hidden, dirty secret while he pretended to be a normal human being, ruler of Amestris, and loving husband? Another freezing surge of terror raced through her body and made her quake in his arms.

"Do you want me to stop?" he queried, looking down at her to see her expression clearly in the soft light of the rising sun. She looked pitiful; there was a mix of hopeless confusion and apparent dread on her face.

"I know there's more, but what does all of this mean? What will happen now?"

"I don't know."

"I-I need to go bake something," she stammered, deciding she needed a little therapy of her own since she did not smoke.

Jean smiled at his wife as he watched her hurry off. Baking was her way of dealing with stress. He lit another cigarette wishing he could escape the glut of overwhelming thoughts in his mind.

* * *

"What is all this?" Jean asked when he was ready to leave for work.

Dara was covered in flour and was busy mixing up more dough in the huge wooden baker's bowl his mother had bought for her. Every pan she owned was sitting around the warm kitchen with bread dough rising or waiting for the oven.

Jean could tell how high her stress level was by the amount and type of baking she did. Bread was highly intensive with all the kneading and shaping and there was a lot of it so her anxiety was clearly off the charts. He could not help but smile at her though. It was a resourceful way to handle the tension that benefitted everyone.

"I'll be back in a while to pick some of this stuff up for the store," he said, kissing her on the cheek before he left.

"I'll send the boys down with it. Well, Al anyway. Who knows when Edward will wake up," she stated with an amused smile on her face. The boy slept a lot but she would not go so far as to call him lazy.

"All right, sweetheart. I'll see you later. I love you," he said, pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

Dara made sure to hold her dough covered hands far away from him so she would not mess up his dark blue work shirt. She loved how it made his eyes appear to be a deep indigo blue. She loved everything about him. Except for that nasty smoking habit, but she would leave that unaddressed at this time considering he was quite possibly hanging on to only a shred of his sanity after his talk with the boys last night.

"I love you too," she told him, nuzzling his nose with her flour covered one. She laughed as he wiped it off with an over exaggerated expression of disgust. When she stuck her hands back into the dough, he commenced to try to wipe the flour from her nose and forehead which made her giggle some more. His eyes held hers for a long moment causing her laughter to dissipate immediately.

"I can't live without you. I can't lose you," he murmured, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Dara swallowed audibly and forced a grin to her lips. "I know how you feel."

With one last kiss on her lips, Jean was out of the door.

Dara abused the dough she was currently kneading to point where she decided to just throw it away. It would be a waste of time and heat to bake it because it would be like a brick from her overkneading it.

"Can I help?" her favorite suit of armor asked, peeking around the corner into the kitchen.

"Of course," Dara answered with a big smile as she measured out flour. It was not hard to tell he was a child because he exhibited so many childlike actions. "You can start by putting those in the oven," she told him, indicating the pans on the kitchen table.

"How much did he tell you?" Alphonse inquired, opening the oven door.

"About half of it I guess. I'm not really sure. I'll admit I went into information overload, and he had to stop," she replied, candidly, dividing the dough into strips to make a braided loaf of bread.

"That looks fun. Can I try?" he asked enthusiastically. How could she resist that?

* * *

"Hi, honey. Hi, Al," Jean greeted them when they walked into the store at lunchtime. He readily accepted the kiss and hug from his wife.

"I brought everyone something. I hope you're hungry," Dara said, showing Alphonse where to sit the huge picnic basket.

"Are you all right?" her husband asked, holding her in his arms. She wondered if it was to comfort her or himself.

"I'm fine," she assured him. She nearly jumped high enough to head butt him in the nose when the door swung open and slammed against the wall with a bang.

"Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc!" Mustang bellowed with a ferocity that made Jean instantly go into soldier mode. The man stomped across the room to stand right in front of his former subordinate.

Dara watched with amusement as he immediately released her and snapped to attention before stiffly saluting the Colonel. Some habits can't be broken. She noticed the warm smile that came across the usually stoic man's face before he embraced his stunned friend.

"What are you doing here?" Jean inquired, stepping back to shake his hand.

"Did Ed and Al talk to you about the new developments?" the Colonel queried. After Jean nodded in affirmation, he said, "There's something I need you to do. Is there some where we can talk in private?"

* * *

Words, words, WORDS! All the nonstop talking! Dara flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She had heard enough and fled to the bedroom to leave them talking in the kitchen. Alphonse and Edward had been brought into the conversation since they would be major players in the whole thing as well. She was exhausted, overwhelmed, and sick of it all. A nap would be nice; a break from life would be better. There is no escape from some problems because they were just too big. Part of the problem had come knocking at their door seeking Jean as a solution. Just when she thought they were safe and free. Until Bradley was deposed, safety and freedom were only an illusion.

"_A weapons and ammunitions smuggler. Using the store as a cover up is perfect!" Jean had exclaimed with obvious excitement. He acted positively thrilled. His wife was much less so._

"_What?" Dara had shrieked, shocking everyone into silence. It was the first time she had ever raised her voice to him in blatant anger._

"_Honey, it's important. I need to do this. Mustang has to be made Fuhrer and I will do my part to make sure that happens," he told her with a determination and conviction in his eyes that destroyed her weak argument._

_Dara turned on Mustang, stomping over to him and standing eye to eye with him since he was sitting in a chair. She invaded his personal space by coming nose to nose with him, such a furious look on her face it made the flirtatious Colonel lean back a bit in astonishment and trepidation._

"_Tell me he will be okay, that nothing will happen," she demanded, glaring at the gaping man. She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her belly. "Don't make me a widow and don't make this child fatherless. Promise me," she commanded him, her eyes boring into his until he thought his skull would explode._

"_I-I pr-promise," he stuttered, staring after her when she stalked out of the room._

Dara curled into a ball on her bed, releasing a sorrowful wail as she began to cry to unleash her stormy emotions. She flinched violently when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Sitting up, she threw her arms around Edward's neck. It was his turn to return the favor of being a shoulder to cry on. She noticed his face taking on a pink tint as she explained Colonel Mustang's arrival and his request of Jean.

"I'll kill that bastard," Edward hissed, leaping off the bed and charging out of the room.

"Ed, no!" she yelled, running after him and grabbing him around the waist. She pressed her forehead into his back as she held him securely to halt his departure. "Please, don't. I understand why this is important to Jean. No longer being a soldier, having to tuck his tail and run home, has made him feel like a coward and less of a man. He thinks I don't know, that I can't tell how this had effected him. I understand the sacrifice he made for me so I'm making one for him now. I won't stop this and neither will you Ed. Please…"

Dara could feel the stubborn teenager's body loosen up when his head dropped forward in defeat. She continued to hold him, an uneasy silence stretching between them.

"All right," he conceded, pulling her arms from around his waist. He turned to look at her, his golden eyes capturing her dark brown ones. "Know this, if anything happens to any of you because of Mustang's scheme, I will kill him."

"Ed, don't say that," Dara pled with him, surprised when he walked away from her rapidly.

"I mean it," he stated emphatically, turning back at the top of the stairs to give her a stolid gaze.

Without uttering a word, Dara watched him trudge down the stairs to return to the kitchen. She had no doubt in her mind if anything went badly and harm came to Jean, herself, or his parents, the irate Edward Elric would in no uncertain terms kill the future Fuhrer.

Arms smugglers. Jean would begin establishing connections and laying the ground work so when Mustang was ready to go forward with his plan to depose the Fuhrer the resources would already by in place. When would this nightmare end? When Mustang became Fuhrer hopefully. Their world would soon be changing forever. They were about to become major players in starting a revolution.


	12. The Joy of Houseguests

The Joy of Houseguests

"Are you asleep?" Jean asked, reaching out his hand into the dark to touch her.

"No," she answered, scooting closer to him.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"Are you angry with me for agreeing to do this?"

"Yes."

"This is a plan years in the making. To do this and be successful, we have to start working on it now. Nothing will happen for several years yet," he assured her, holding her close to him.

Jean was right. They should be ready. A war one of these days was inescapable especially since the Fuhrer's true identity had been discovered. Mustang will do anything and everything to take the homunculus and all of his kind down. There would be the inevitable struggle for power that would ensue afterward when the Fuhrer was deposed and killed. All of the general population would forever be in complete ignorance of what the Fuhrer really was or how he was purposely placed in that position. Getting King Bradley there had been a plan like this: taking years of thought and premeditated actions to set it into motion.

"Everything will be okay. We're safe."

"For now," she added, sighing heavily. "I know the revolution and the war that will come with it is unavoidable. I can't stop the fear," she murmured, pressing her face against his bare chest.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be afraid too?" he inquired, kissing her lips.

Dara was taken aback and rendered speechless. No. She had never once considered that he might be fearful of coming events. He always seemed so courageous and confident as if he had no fear. However, courage is not the absence of fear but doing what is necessary despite the fear. She raised her mouth to him when she felt him pressing searching kisses to her face.

"We will deal with the rest when it comes," he whispered, pulling up her nightgown. "I need you to be my wife, to love me."

Dara kissed him as he pushed into her to stifle her moan. She knew he needed the closeness to soothe him because she needed it herself. The intimacy of becoming one brought that mind, body, and soul connection they both craved at that moment. Her fingers wound themselves into his silky blond hair, pulling slightly as pleasure coursed through her body. Her moans were stifled between their mouths while his tongue gently probed hers as he moved inside of her slowly, driving them both to eventual and satisfying orgasms. Afterward, she lay in his arms luxuriating in the wonderfully euphoric state where nothing mattered and no one existed but them. Reality and all of its problems would come soon enough with the dawn of another day.

* * *

"Stressed again?" Jean asked, glancing over the multiple pans of rising bread and numerous trays full of cookies waiting to be baked. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Yes and no," she answered, kneading the dough in the bowl so violently Jean almost winced in pain.

"You're not getting enough rest. It's not good for the baby," he said, kissing her cheek.

"I know. I'll take a nap after I bake all this stuff," she assured him, giving him a smile and a kiss to send him off to work.

"Good morning," Alphonse cheerily called when he walked into the kitchen followed by a half awake Colonel.

They had a house full of guests last night. It was a good thing they had so much more room. Dara had to look away from the disheveled Mustang before she began laughing. She never would have guessed his usually smooth black hair could be such a wild mess and stick up in so many directions at once.

"Would you like some coffee, Colonel?" she inquired, giggling when his head fell off his fist, and he face planted on the table. It looked like it hurt, but that did not stop it from being funny.

"Yes, please," he mumbled, his face still lying on the table. "You can call me Roy. You don't have to be so formal."

"I like being formal, Colonel," she told him as she sat the cup down in front of him. Being formal kept her from getting too friendly and familiar with the excessively flirty Colonel. She preferred it this way.

"Do you need help?" Alphonse inquired sounding almost hopeful.

"Sure. I need help getting things in and out of the oven again. Thank you, Al. You're the sweetest thing," she said, smiling at him.

Alphonse remained silent. At times like this he was glad he was an unexpressive suit of armor. Otherwise he would be grinning like an idiot with a dark blush on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you people? It's too early," Edward grumbled as he tripped into the kitchen. At least Mustang could maneuver better during his half asleep state. That could quite possibly be due to all of the experience gained during rapid, early morning evacuations from bedrooms of women before their parents or husbands came home.

"The crack of noon would be too early for you, Ed," Mustang muttered into his coffee cup before taking a sip.

"I'm on vacation, dammit. I get up plenty early when we're on missions," he shot back defensively.

"Boys, I'm too tired for this. Edward, watch that mouth of yours," Dara admonished him, watching his face flood with pink color.

"Why don't you go on up to bed? We'll handle this," Alphonse told her. "You need to rest for the baby."

Dara glanced at each man in the kitchen wondering if the three of them could handle it. She was extremely tired and was not feeling well at all. With a deep sigh, she decided she would just have to trust them and hope for the best. After taking off her apron, she went upstairs to lie down in bed. Sleep came quickly and so did the nightmares.

The bad dreams must be of possible future events, but hopefully not things they would actually witness. The images in her mind were horrifying in their realism and intensity. She could smell the gunpowder, the rotting flesh of the dead. Blood stained the ground and ran like a river through the streets. Men shouting, women screaming, and babies crying during mass chaos and unbridled panic. This made her never want to sleep again.

Dara came downstairs to find that she was alone. It appeared they had not only finished the baked goods but had taken them down the store as well. How sweet. She lay down on the couch and within minutes was asleep again. This dream was much better, and she hoped it was of the future.

Dara could see Jean sitting on the floor holding a baby and a little boy in his lap. All of their friends were sitting around laughing and talking, just enjoying each other's presence. The Elric brothers were there and they had their bodies back; both were tall and handsome, healthy and complete – finally. There was a Christmas tree in the corner beside the fireplace. Of course it was Christmas. What other holiday is more perfect for family and friends? She saw herself sweeping into the room carrying a tray of gingerbread cookies over her softly rounded belly signaling their third child was on the way. Oh, please, please let this be real; let this be a window to future events.

"Honey?" Jean's voice called to her, breaking through the haze of her dream state.

Dara opened her eyes to see him standing over her with a pink rose in his hand. She sat up to look at him while a warm feeling crept over body and her stomach flip flopped when he bent down on one knee to give her the rose. Such a silly romantic – and one more reason to love him. Burying her face in the rose, she inhaled its wonderful fragrance while the velvety petals brushed across her cheeks.

"It's the first spring rose to bloom, and I brought it to you. See, there's always the beauty that comes after the harsh, difficult times," he said, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Oh, yuck," growled Edward, stomping into the room.

"Oh, brother! They're kinda cute! Don't ruin it for them!" Alphonse exclaimed.

"Yeah, cute. In that sickly sweet, make you want to vomit, sort of way," grumbled Mustang, following both of the boys in.

Well, there's a romantic moment hopelessly destroyed by three houseguests who should be a little more polite. Dara stood up with a loud sigh of annoyance, trying not to be aggravated with any of them. It was extremely challenging. It was time to cook dinner anyway so she could free herself of the tension, and the sources of it, that way.

"I'll stay with you. I would say I'll help, but you know I'm not so good in the kitchen," Jean murmured, his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink just like the rose.

"Oh, I'm aware," she chuckled with very little humor. "You just stand there and look cute while I cook. Talk to me. And tell me some good news."

Jean was silent at first, watching her as she chopped up vegetables. Dara remembered the first time he attempted to help her in the kitchen. She thought cutting produce was surely a job a man could handle especially a man with an ability to use a gun so well. Apparently, aiming a gun is quite different than managing a knife because the man almost cut his finger clean off. His second shot at assistance came when she asked him to season the spaghetti sauce. The sauce was ruined when he dumped the whole container of spice into the pot. And on the list of culinary catastrophes go. Jean always had a good heart; he always does when wanting to help out. She was hoping his big heart had not gotten the better of just plain good sense when he decided to assist Mustang on his venture. Of course the Colonel choosing Jean for such an important task did show his faith and trust in her husband. That should mean something.

"Dara, are you even listening to me?" Jean asked, putting his hand over hers that was lying on the counter. "Sweetheart, what are you thinking about?"

"You," she answered with a smile, going back to chopping the vegetables she had been ignoring.

"Oh? What about me?"

"How charming you are. How bad you are in the kitchen. How much I love you."

"Those are good things. Well, they're all true anyway." Jean moved behind her pressing his hands against her belly. "How many more do you want?"

"At least two," she answered swiftly, recalling her dream.

"Why the hell did you even come here in the first place?" Edward's voice, high pitched and strained, interrupted their conversation all the way from the living room. There was only one person he could be yelling at, but why?

"Because I need him! He is an integral part of my plan! He always has been. He's actually in a better position to carry it out here. He's the knight in this game and –" Mustang was cut off abruptly.

"This isn't a damn game, Colonel! You're playing with people's lives here and I don't like it!"

"War is never a game! Sometimes it's a necessary evil!" It was unusual and disturbing to hear the usually monotone and reserved Colonel shout in fury.

"Jean, please stop them," Dara begged, tears coming to her eyes. She did not want to think about any of that and would like to pummel Edward for bringing it up. She just wanted to enjoy her peaceful life and pleasant family while everything was still intact. The tears continued to slide down her face while she carried on with dinner preparations. In her own way, she was a good soldier – carrying on with her duties when she did not feel like it and facing fear when she only wanted to run away. She was building skills in preparation for the future to come. First, she had to survive the two morons in the living room arguing. Second, she would have to adjust to becoming a mother. Third? Well, only time would tell what the third challenge would be. Whatever it was, when it came, she would be ready for it.


	13. The Awaited Arrival

The Awaited Arrival

Dara awoke well before dawn with terrible pain in her back and her massive belly. It was time for the baby to arrive at last. The midwife had told her last week that it should happen any day and that day was here. She struggled out of bed, feeling like a fish flopping around the sandy shore. She was ready to have this baby. It was too early to wake Jean since this would take hours anyway. Strolling around the house aimlessly, she rubbed her belly during particularly strong contractions and panted through the pain.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you in bed?" her sleepy husband inquired when he appeared at the foot of the stairs.

Dara had just completed what seemed like her thousandth circuit around the bottom floor of the house. She held her belly, breathing deeply until the contraction subsided and she could answer him.

"The baby has decided to make today his or her birthday," she said, watching her husband's eyes fly open wide with surprise.

"What?" he inquired, not fully comprehending yet. Shock was a factor this time instead of drowsiness with hampering his understanding.

"The baby's coming, Jean. Go get your mother and the midwife," she ordered gently, grasping the wooden bannister as the next contraction began. Things were rapidly progressing; it was much closer because the pain was getting worse.

"Oh, Dara!" he yelled, grabbing her and hugging her. He ran back upstairs to dress leaving her puffing at the bottom of the staircase.

Once the contraction had passed, Dara decided she better make her way back up to her bedroom to prepare for the impending birth of the baby. She clung to the railing when Jean ran back past her to retrieve the women who would help bring his baby into this world. A surprised shriek escaped her when he ran back up the stairs to grab her and kiss her.

"We're having a baby!" he yelled excitedly, charging back down the stairs and out the front door.

"Yes, I wish _we_ were. I'd gladly share the pain," she grumbled, struggling through another contraction.

While Jean was gone, Dara prepared the bed with clean sheets and placed stacks of towels and sheets on her bedside table. Taking off her clothes and wrapping up in a sheet, she lay down on the bed to wait. There was a sudden gush of water between her legs, and she screamed when a pain so severe it felt like she was being ripped in two seized her body.

"Dara!" Jean bellowed, running up the stairs.

Dara was unable to answer because of the agonizing discomfort in her body. She leaned forward, following her body's natural urge to push. Her fear was assuaged when the two women who would assist her burst through the bedroom door.

"Jean!" Dara shrieked, reaching out to him when he entered the room.

"Ma-Mama, what's wrong with her?" he inquired upon seeing his naked sweating wife with her hair plastered to her face that had twisted into a horrid mask from her physical suffering and torment.

"She's having a baby, Jean. It hurts," his mother calmly explained, ignoring his ghostly pale face and panic stricken expression. "Women do it all the time. She's strong. She'll be okay."

Jean was finally able to get his leaden legs to move so he could go to his wife. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he took the washcloth his mother handed him and began wiping her face with it. He had seen the horrors of war, men laying in misery and soul crushing anguish while they lay dying. Nothing had prepared him for the trauma of seeing his precious and adored wife in the agonizing throes of labor. He dipped the cloth in the bowl of cold water his mother had put beside the bed and pressed it to her burning hot face. Looking at his sweet mother as she patted Dara's hand and stroked her back, he had a whole new appreciation for the woman who had brought him into this world.

"It hurts! Mama, please make it stop!" she begged, sobbing violently.

"Darling, it's all right. Just calm down. Your baby will be here soon," Mama Havoc assured her, rubbing her lower back harder.

The midwife was between Dara's splayed legs watching and waiting. The old woman must be a hundred years old. She was the same woman who helped Jean's mother give birth to him. Ms. Pinkney had been the town's midwife and lay doctor for so long no one knew what they would do without her. A smile suddenly lit up her face, stretching the quilt like wrinkles of her face.

"I see the head! Almost there, dear!" she exclaimed happily.

Dara sat up and screamed as she gave an extra hard push. She was ready to end this whole thing. At this point she was rethinking having any more children at all. Looking over at her handsome husband, she watched him nervously chew on his lower lip while it appeared he was attempting to not faint. Her attention was quickly returned to the task at hand when the overwhelming urge to push seized her again. Feeling a tearing sensation, she shrieked with pain while her mid wife yelled that the head was out. With tears streaming down her face and feeling completely exhausted, she continued to push to finally give birth to the child she had waited for the last nine months.

"He's here! It's a baby boy!" Ms. Pinkney screeched while the baby's cries joined her to punctuate the reality of his arrival.

"Dara! Oh, Dara!" Jean exclaimed, tears running down his face as he pulled his wife into his arms.

Dara felt like a rag doll. She was limp and unresponsive due to fatigue and the pain that had not yet stopped. There was still work for her body to do but the biggest part was over since their son had arrived. She smiled weakly as he kissed her face and held her tightly while the other two women cleaned and dressed the baby.

"What are you going to name him?" Ms. Pinkney inquired as she tickled the baby's foot and watched for his reaction.

"Dax Armand. The meanings are leader and army man. The Colonel would be proud," he said, looking down at his wife who was dozing in his arms. He held her tighter when she grimaced and moaned with pain. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine," the old woman answered, turning the baby over to his grandmother who gladly took him to wrap him in a blanket. "She just did a lot of hard work."

"Here son," Mama Havoc said, bringing him his baby boy wrapped in a snow white blanket. "You hold your new son while we take care of his mama."

They shooed him from the room so they could clean up the new mother and the bed. Jean stared at his son, marveling at the priceless miracle in his arms. He kissed the baby's forehead then nuzzled the velvety scalp covered with white fuzz. His wife had just given him the best gift ever. A tear slipped from his eye while he held the wonderful testament to their love.

"Jean, you can come back in. Dara wants to see him," his mother said.

Jean smiled broadly at his wife who as sitting up in the bed dressed in a frilly nightgown with her hair damp from a quick washing and pulled back from her face. He sat down beside her, placing the baby in her arms.

Dara gazed lovingly at their beautiful boy. She could hardly believe it. The child she had loved for so long without seeing him was now in her arms. Recalling that first fluttery movement and the rush of love she felt then, she realized she was feeling a much stronger flood of emotions at the present moment. There was no denying her entrance into that special club for women called motherhood. Tears flooded her cheeks as she counted fingers and toes, tickled a tiny tummy, and kissed silky smooth cheeks.

"Our baby, oh Jean, our baby," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his forehead. The baby began to fuss and grunt moving his head like he was searching for something.

"What are you doing?" Jean asked, watching her untying her nightgown and pushing it open. He gulped with his huge eyes glued to her as she pulled out her full gorgeous breast that grown fabulously big during her pregnancy. He had never known that there was such a lovely side effect to pregnancy.

"The baby's hungry, Jean. How did you expect me to feed him?" Dara asked, raising the baby to her breast.

"Well, a bottle I guess," he answered, mesmerized and slightly envious by what he was seeing as the baby rooted around briefly then latched on to the engorged pink nipple.

"That comes later. Mama is always best," she stated plainly, turning her head to look at her husband with a little bit of ridicule. "What did you think a woman's breasts were for? They were made for babies to have milk not for grown men to play with."

"Dara!" he exclaimed, taken aback by her bluntness. He smiled and kissed her, amused by her sudden burst of mocking brazenness. Leaning down to kiss the happily suckling infant's head, he put his arms around his wife to hold her.

"Congratulations, youngsters! You have a healthy baby boy!" Ms. Pinkney declared before walking out of the room.

"I'll be back later with some food for you. I'll leave you two alone now," Mama Havoc said, following the other woman out.

"Can you believe it?" Dara asked, stroking the baby's soft cheek with her forefinger. "We're parents."

"You've made me the happiest man in the world all over again. I knew I had picked the right girl to marry."

* * *

"Oh, Mama!" Edward yelled, picking Dara up and swinging her around. "Where is he?"

"He's in the living room with his father," Dara giggled, greeting Alphonse and taking him by the hand to lead him to the other room.

Edward already had the two week old baby boy in his arms when they entered the room.

"Baby brother," he cooed, kissing the sleeping baby's forehead.

"I'm glad you two were able to get here so fast to see him," Jean said, putting his arm around Dara when she sat down beside him.

"We came as soon as we got the news. There was no way I could stay away from this little guy," Edward said, sitting down in the rocking chair with the baby carefully cradled in his arms.

Dara laid her head on Jean's chest, watching her cute blond 'adopted son' as he rocked and cuddled the baby. She loved to watch Jean with the baby and it was even more adorable to see him in Edward's arms. Her eyes moved over to Alphonse who stood close by observing everything silently. Oh, Alphonse.

"Mama, he's hungry," Edward announced when the baby began to wake up and squirm around with little mewling cries.

"Here, let me have him." Dara crossed the living room, holding out her arms for the baby.

"I'll feed him. Where's the bottle?" he aked, his face contorting with confusion when Dara only stared at him with very amused brown eyes. "What?"

"He doesn't take a bottle. Only I can feed him," she explained as delicately as possible as he tenderly jostled the fussy baby in his arms.

"Huh?" His eyes dropped to her breasts that had become shockingly large since the last time he had seen her. "Oh!" he exclaimed, his face turning a fantastic crimson that matched his jacket.

Dara resisted the urge to giggle as the mortified teenager handed over the hungry baby. She would be going upstairs to the baby's room for a bit of privacy. She walked to the stairs, turning back to look at her three men sitting in the living room. Looking down at her son in her arms, she realized she was grossly outnumbered in a family full of men. Hopefully, their next child would be a girl. She needed a companion and ally in this testosterone infested environment.


	14. The Surprise Arrival

The Surprise Arrival

Dara watched her two year old toddle happily across their backyard. The sun made a halo around his golden blond head, but she already thought he was her angel anyway. She leaned back on her hands turning her face up to the sun momentarily to luxuriate in its warmth on her face. Her hand went to her belly as the baby kicked her soundly in the side. The baby kicked again and it felt like her foot was lodged between Dara's ribs. Since she found out she was pregnant, she had been proclaiming this baby was a girl. She heard Jean open the back door and step out onto the porch.

"Dax! Who's home? Tell Mama!" she yelled, watching the little boy whirl around so fast he fell on his behind.

"Daddy! Daddy!" he squealed, getting up as quickly as he could and waddling toward his father on his chubby little baby legs.

"Oh, there's my big boy!" Jean exclaimed, crouching down with arms extended for the ecstatic child to run into them. He hugged him close, kissing the top of his soft blond head. Standing up with his son in his arms, he strolled over to his wife who was eight months pregnant. "How did you get down there?"

Dara shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked way up at her tall husband smiling down at her. She was quite comfortable sitting in the thick grass in their back yard. She had gotten down here to play with her son without thinking about the consequences of getting back up. "Getting down was easy. Getting up will be the hard part," she joked, giving him a big smile. Her husband was a big strong man, and she had complete faith in him that he could get her off of the ground.

"All right, Dax. Stand back, this is gonna be tricky," he said, setting the child on his feet in the grass. Jean leaned down, taking Dara's hands to easily pull her to a standing position.

"I knew you could do it," she giggled, patting him on the chest. She raised her lips for the always anticipated welcome home kiss.

"Oh, I love my wife," he murmured, kissing her again before running to retrieve his son from the top of the woodpile where the inquisitive child had climbed in the few short minutes it took to get two kisses.

"From what Mama Havoc says, he's just like you when you were little," she told him, rubbing her belly.

"Is she having an active day today?" Jean asked, putting his son down at their feet so he could press his hands to her belly. He patted Dara's big belly asking, "Dax, who's in here?"

"Sissy!" the little boy happily exclaimed.

"What's sissy's name?" he inquired, smiling as the child stared up at him with his huge green eyes.

"Oh, Jean, you're so mean," Dara admonished him.

Jean had played this unkind little game before. Men could be such jerks.

"Miwet," Dax answered, smiling proudly.

"What?"

"Miwet, Daddy!"

"Jean, he'll grow out of it. He's only two. How old are you?" she asked, smacking him on the back of the head. Mirette Esme was the name she had chosen because it means admirable and loved. She scooped up her son and tromped toward the house.

"Oh, honey, come on! I'm not making fun of him really," he whined following her as walked into the house. "It's just so darn cute the way he says that! You have to admit it."

"Get that, would you," she ordered when there was a knock on the front door. She headed up the stairs.

"Oh, Dara! Don't be so serious!" he yelled at her before he opened the door.

Dara turned back when she heard three familiar voices at the front door: Edward, Alphonse, and Colonel Mustang. Oh, she was not in the mood for this. She was irritated with Jean. Her personality had already been suffering lately due to hormones and the overwhelming fatigue that comes at the end of a pregnancy.

"Hey, where's – Dara!" Edward yelled.

Dara froze on the stairs when she heard Edward's heavy boots clomping behind her.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, just like he always did.

"Edwood!" Dax screeched, reaching out for the blond he honestly thought was his big brother.

"Say a word and I'll kill you Jean Havoc," she bellowed, giving him a deadly glare as Edward took Dax from her.

All three men turned and stared at Jean questioningly. What could he have possibly done to tick off the kind and good natured Dara to that degree? First of all, he got her pregnant again. Second of all, he was teasing her innocent and sweet baby boy. Never harass the young of a mama of any species.

"I'm taking a nap!" she informed them.

"When did she become a shrieking harpy?" Colonel Mustang inquired, dodging the shoe that came hurtling toward his head.

"Any other questions, Colonel?" she snapped, giving him the same fierce expression her husband had received earlier.

"No, ma'am, uh, Dara, uh, ma'am!" he responded, giving her a salute. "You better hope she has this baby soon or she's going to kill you," Mustang whispered after she disappeared at the top of the staircase.

"Would you shut up? You're not helping," the aggravated blond husband hissed back.

Dara lay in the bed wondering if she had done the right thing leaving her baby alone with the four men. Out of all them, she trusted Alphonse the most and she was sure he would come to her baby's rescue. She was so tired that she could not stand it anymore. A short nap was just what she needed.

* * *

Dara awoke with a scream, grabbing her belly. If felt as if she were being ripped open. Labor had not felt like this before. It was still a little early yet unless she had miscalculated.

"Jean! Jean!" she cried out in fear and pain, attempting to get up from the bed but she could not move.

"What is it?" he asked, bursting into the room with the rest of his panic stricken posse behind him.

"There's something wrong. Get Mrs. Pinkney and Mama. Jean," she called his name quietly, turning her wide, frightened eyes on his face. "Our baby is coming."

Jean swallowed the terror that threatened to choke him and immobilize him. He grabbed the Colonel by the arm, leaving her with the two boys.

"Al, can you take Dax downstairs or to his playroom?" she requested, panting and biting her lower lip to hold back a shriek of agony. "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Mama? Are you goin' be otay?" her little miniature Jean with green eyes inquired.

"Yeah, baby. Mama is going to be just fine," she assured him, hoping it was true as another searing pain tore through her belly and back. "Al, please…"

"Come on, buddy. Let's go," Alphonse said, picking up the little boy.

"Big brudder, is Mama really goin' be otay?" he asked Alphonse as the lovable suit of armor clunked down the hall. It was so precious that Dax did not give his metal 'brother' a second thought as being weird or unusual. How would he react when Alphonse had his body back?

"Oh, god, Ed it hurts," she snarled through her clenched teeth.

Edward sat beside her, giving her his metal hand to squeeze while his other arm slid around her shoulders. He did not want her to break his one human hand, and he did not think she could hurt herself on the automail hand. The last time he had been this frightened and filled with such a sense of dread was when his mother was dying. Surely God would not be so cruel as to take his second 'mom' away from him; and not just him but her real son. The baby! What about the baby inside of her? 'Oh, God, please, PLEASE, see fit to get them safely through this,' he silently prayed.

"Oh, no," Dara gasped when red seeped past the edges of her dress on the pristine white sheets.

"Dara, what's happening?" Edward asked, noticing her face had turned deathly pale. "Dara? Dara! No! This can't be happening!"

Edward held the unconscious woman to his chest. Placing his hand on her belly, he could feel the baby kicking around. Where is that help? Where are they? It seemed like forever before the two women finally arrived.

"What happened?" Mama Havoc asked, staring at Edward.

"I-I d-don't kn-know," he stuttered, laying her down carefully so they could look at her. "She noticed the blood and fainted soon after."

Jean put his hand on the terror stricken blond's shoulder and could feel him trembling. Edward's already large golden eyes were even bigger and absolutely wild with fear.

"I need you two to get some things," Mrs. Pinkney announced before she started spouting of the horrifying list. "Lots of towels, sheets, hot water, your sharpest butcher knife, and her sewing basket."

"Wh-what? Wh-what do you need those things for?" Jean stammered, his terrified expression was a perfect copy of Edward's.

"We need them to save your baby and your wife," the old woman told him pointedly. "Now go get them."

* * *

"What's taking so long?" Jean asked no one in particular as he nervously paced the floor. He retreated out of the door for another cigarette. He had taken back up the habit just for this occasion.

All of them were apprehensive, anxious, and scared out of their minds at this time. Things were eerily quiet from upstairs. Suddenly a thin, weak cry pierced the air.

"JEAN!" Mustang bellowed, jumping to his feet.

Jean came rushing back in the door his blond hair poking up in all directions from his fingers being raked through it and his blue eyes wide open. Mustang snatched the cigarette hanging the expectant father's lip and pointed upstairs. After watching Jean gallop up the stairs two at a time, he walked out of the door taking a drag off the half smoked cigarette. It might be better to stay outside until he knew what was going on up there. He could not bear the thought of having to comfort his friend if his wife and child were to die.

"How is she? Is she okay? Oh, my god!" Jean yelled when he saw his wife. He thought she was dead. Her face was pasty white and she looked almost blue. A fine sheen of sweat covered her face giving her a glossy doll like appearance. "Oh, god, I'm gonna be sick," he gagged when he saw her belly had been opened up. She looked ilke a fileted and gutted fish.

"Jean, don't look!" his mother said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. "She's not dead. We had to get the baby out before it killed them both. Jean, I'm afraid this is the last child you'll have."

"No! No," he muttered under his breath, staring at the floor. "But she wanted three."

"If she survives this, getting pregnant again could kill her," Mrs. Pinkney informed him in no uncertain terms. She was threading a needle. Jean did not even want to know why.

"Where's my baby?" he inquired on the verge of completely giving in to the sheer terror that was closing in on him.

Mrs. Havoc took the baby out of the bassinette and handed the small bundle to her father.

"At least Dara got her girl," his mother told him, kissing him on the forehead. "Take her downstairs. We'll take care of her mother."

Jean walked to what would be the baby's room and sat down in the rocking chair. He stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes as he rocked the baby gently to comfort himself as well as her.

"Mama will make it Esme. She won't leave you. She won't leave us. She can't," he stated with resolve, his voice faltering as the tears poured down his face. "I can't survive without her."

* * *

The next several weeks were pure hell. A doctor from the neighboring town had been brought to check Dara and make sure she was okay. He redid the stitches with actual surgical thread and cleaned the incision carefully to make sure there was no possibility of infection. The group of family and friends stayed on pins and needles hoping she would survive. Dara was incredibly weak and confined to the bed. All she could do was eat, sleep, and make occasional trips to the bathroom to attend to things there. It was hard for her to breastfeed the baby but she was determined to do it. At first Esme rejected feeding entirely, but Dara patiently worked with the baby until she took it.

By the sixth week, they figured the worst was over and it would just be a long slow recovery which it definitely was. It took until Esme was a year old for Dara to return to normal. She recovered just in time to be able to endure some of the most earth shattering and life changing events that any of them would ever experience during their lifetime.


	15. The Comeback

The Comeback

"Dax! Get out of there!" Dara exclaimed when her four year old son leaned over into the huge flour bin. She did not want him to fall into it. Again. Her eyes moved across the room to her two year old daughter playing happily on the floor with her toys in the corner of the kitchen. Esme's brown hair hung in damp ringlets around her cherubic face that was dominated by her big blue eyes - Jean's eyes. They were all sweating from the heat of the stove. She was elbow deep in bread dough when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh, dear," she mumbled, extracting her hands from the sticky dough. She turned on the faucet to wash the gluey substance from her hands when another knock sounded. "I'm coming."

Dara ran to the door with the kitchen towel in her hand. A surprise awaited her that would shake her very soul and bring tears to her eyes. She opened the door to see two young men standing there. She was unable to see the second man because he was standing right behind the other one. They were both around six feet tall. The one standing in front of her had short dark blond hair and big round golden eyes. Those eyes. Oh my god.

"Al? Alphonse?" she asked, leaning against the door when her knees weakened. Her whole body felt as if it was shaking.

"Yeah, Mama. It's me. I'm back," he said, stepping toward her and pulling her into his arms.

Dara leaned completely against him as he held her in a bear hug. Tears flooded down her cheeks and she sobbed with joyful unrestraint. She put them around his neck to hug him. After all these years, they did it. They got their bodies. She finally gets to hold her other 'son' in her arms. After a lengthy embrace, she held his face in her hands and just stared.

"Oh, Al, you're such a handsome man just like I knew you would be," she bawled, kissing his cheek when he bent down for her to reach him.

"I'm so glad this day is finally here. I've wanted to do this for so long," he rejoined, still clinging to her. The last few months had been a sensory nightmare for him. He had no idea what a daunting task the readjustment to his body would be. The sense of touch had been the most difficult to become reaccustomed to. Some days he would have to retreat to his room where he would huddle in the corner with his eyes tightly closed and his hands covering his ears. Sometimes he would just plain ache after touching or being touched too much. It was wonderful having his body back but it had come at a horrible price just like a lot of things in his life.

"Where are the kids?" Alphonse inquired, when she looked up at him.

"They're in the kitchen. Go ahead and go see them. I think they'll figure out who you are pretty quickly," she sniffed, wiping her still streaming eyes with her apron. She kissed him on the cheek again and watched him walk away.

"Mama," Edward whispered, unable to talk any louder from the emotions choking him.

"Oh, Ed," Dara stated in a weak voice, dissolving into tears again. She had to reach way up to put her arms around his neck now. Running her hand down his 'new' arm, her fingers glided over the toned muscle beneath the smooth skin. She carefully studied each finger on his hand while he stroked her hair with the other. "One day you can tell me how this happened but not today. For today at least, let's just be happy."

"How have things been?" he inquired, walking to the kitchen with her hand in his.

"Not bad. As you already know the worst part of the violence is occurring in Central and the surrounding area. We're still pretty safe here but we have no illusions that the battles will eventually spread this way. Needless to say we have all kinds of people streaming in and out of our lives now. So far we've been lucky and have not been caught by the people who still support the memory of King Bradley. How do they think a dead man is going to continue to rule the country? He is dead right?" Dara asked, dropping his hand as he bent to pick up Esme who was holding her arms up to him.

Alphonse was holding Dax who was completely fascinated with his big brother who was no longer a suit of armor. He patiently allowed the child to pat and pinch and explore every inch of his face. He pretended to nip at the boy's fingers which caused him to draw back in horror then chuckle long and loud.

Dara smiled through the tears that started falling again. This was such an overwhelming occasion. It had been a longed for and much anticipated event but even good things can be nearly devastating in their intensity. Remembering her dough, she went back to it, talking with the boys while they played with the children.

They were sitting in the living room when Jean arrived home. He was greeted by his children who quickly led him to their two big brothers. His reaction was shock and tears which made his wife start crying all over again.

As she watched the boys interact with Jean, Dara wondered what kind of reunion had taken place with their real father when they stumbled upon him in their journeys. She can only imagine what a heart rending moment that was for them. With tears still flowing down her cheeks, she realized their family was complete. She pressed her hand to her belly knowing the dream she had so long ago would never come true. Her new dream now was that they all survive and retain their sanity until the war was over.

* * *

Seven years later it finally happened. The war was over and Mustang had achieved his goal to seize control of the country to be the new Fuhrer. The man had fantastic ideas and lofty goals that he planned to institute. He would do it with the help of all the people who had helped him get there. He rebuilt the command building as the new capitol. He also built a city within the city that consisted of homes and parks and even stores for his heads of state, advisors, and other appointed members of his staff.

Jean was selected as Mustang's Chief military advisor because of his role in supplying Mustang's personal army with weapons and developing their strategies. Through it all he had remained a faithful, loving husband father who had protected his family from all of the horrors of war. He had managed to always keep them one step ahead and out of danger from any skirmishes or incidents that transpired.

Dara loved her husband and stayed right by his side. Things had not worked out as they planned to lead a quiet, happy life in obscurity but they had indeed worked out. They were finally free to live their lives in peace just like they had always wanted while helping to lead their country to a new and prosperous future while working toward their own personal future.

The End


End file.
